


Kanna Nee Thoongada

by Nifflers_and_Crookshanks



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: AmarSena - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-08-28 13:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifflers_and_Crookshanks/pseuds/Nifflers_and_Crookshanks
Summary: Amarendra leaves Kuntala before his identity is revealed, and reunites with Devasena during his coronation’s festivities.





	1. Shivdu

Upon his return to the royal palace many found Amarendra Baahubali a changed man. He was much the same as he had always been, confident and strong, and ever-smiling, but now his personality seemed to have been magnified tenfold. His majestic voice contained even more authority and determination as he delivered his speeches to the court, forever speaking of the plight of his people and his solutions to their problems. In private, his booming laugh could be heard throughout the halls and his playful grin was always present as he regaled his company with tales of his exploits. The stories of his adventures, however, ceased at the Northern border with Kuntala, though his family knew he had spent much time in the kingdom of their allies. That was where Rajamatha’s summons had reached him, after all.

“Living among our people has served you well, Bahu,” She observed one day after a particularly impassioned speech of his on the necessity of infrastructure. “Tell me, what has changed you so,” He was more a king than ever, Sivagami noted with satisfaction, he had truly become himself, but what had evoked such a change?

“Love, Amma,” Amarendra replied fondly, and that had been sufficient for Rajamatha. Love had always been the guiding force behind Baahubali. Love for his mother, love for his brother, love for their kingdom and it’s people. His shared experiences with their subjects would have enhanced his devotion, of course.

That, however, was not it. Yes, love was the reason behind Baahubali’s fruition, but not a newfound love for his people. He had already understood the common folk well, and his kind heart had belonged to them long before his time among them. Love of another kind had now gripped his heart, and consequently his soul and very being, so that now he was who he was meant to be. Perhaps if he had been given more time in Kuntala then his mother would understand who had claimed his heart.

Amarendra’s newfound maturity into kinghood meant that his new suggestions came as no surprise. As preparations for his coronation were being finalised, he made many suggestions. The idea that the royal families of the surrounding nations be invited came alongside his insistence on the construction of new public wells throughout the kingdom and the creation of public gardens so as to return nature to the city and add trees to the stone. No one suspected anything, except Kattappa. Even Sivagami Devi passed off the request as Bahu taking initiative on international diplomacy. He had never taken an interest in foreign policy before, but neither had he been interested in civil engineering before his travels, so it did not seem out of the ordinary. Besides, Amarendra Baahubali would surely not have ulterior motives in anything he did, despite what his trickster grin occasionally suggested.

“Most of those that have accepted the invitations are kings with too many daughters,” Bhalla scoffed one day as one of the ministers read aloud the list of foreign dignitaries that would be attending the coronation, all of whom had thought to bring female relatives of marital age.

“As is expected,” His mother replied, “Who would make such a long and tedious journey with nothing to gain from it?” The truth was that the news that Rajamatha Sivagami Devi was searching for a daughter-in-law had spread like wildfire, and every sensible ruler on the continent was clamouring for an alliance. Mahishmati was the most powerful kingdom there was, an empire born from military force and sheer will, and to marry a daughter to either one of the sons of Sivagami Devi would bring a guarantee of security unparalleled.

Of course, some of their future guests had been known to Sivagami already and their portrait scrolls were piled up, one on top of the other, on a table in her second audience chamber. Her ministers had lost count of the number of princesses she had rejected, citing one perceived flaw or another, in the pursuit of a suitable wife for her beloved Bahu. Yuvrani Varuni of Madhulaipura was one such spurned princess, who Sivagami thought had lifeless eyes and therefore could not be the queen of Amarendra Baahubali. Now, Rajamatha would see how accurate her statement was, and see if the dispositions of the various princesses matched the characters that had been relayed to her by the ambassadors that had flocked to her court. Perhaps this way was best, after all. How wise of Bahu to suggest the idea.

Amarendra, however, did not spare a thought for Yuvrani Varuni or any other woman besides the princess of Kuntala. A month had passed since he had last seen her, but the crown prince maintained a cheerful disposition. He was sure of her mutual affections, and his heart told him that nothing would stand in their way of joining together forever. He had decided that she would be his life partner, had given himself to her fully - even if she was not aware of his feelings - and if she returned his love then together their determination could move oceans. The knowledge warmed his heart, and he anticipated, with some amusement, the arrival of the royal delegation of Kuntala.

His plans, however, required a little altering when Mahismati’s esteemed guests proved resistant. The Raja of Udayagiri had been scandalised by the idea of his unmarried daughters residing in the home of a man who was not family, if even for a short time and with him accompanying her, and had insisted on seperate living quarters for himself, his daughters and his retinue. Sivagami Devi requested that Bhallala Deva relinquish the spring palace to lodge them, when it became clear that there was no place for them within the city walls, which he begrudgingly conceded. It was then decided that the royals of Udayagiri, Madhulaipura, Vijayapuri, Trayambaka and Kuntala would all be settled in the spring palace for their time in Mahishmati, as the royal palace did not have sufficient room to house the entirety of the guests in suitable accommodation befitting their statuses. It was at this point that Kattappa thought it best to raise the topic with Baahubali.

“Do not worry, Mama,” Amarendra assured him. “It will all be well,” His relaxed and optimistic manner typical of the man he was before, but amplified. With his beloved, he did not think he needed to worry about anything. His opinion on this, however, changed when it was the day before his coronation and yet he had heard no word of the Kuntala company except that they had reached the spring palace had had begun the short trip to the city. Baahubali watched the growing number of tents pitched outside the city walls anxiously, eyes searching for the blue banner with the white swan that had decorated the halls of Raja Jaya Varma’s palace. Even Bhalla, who’s relationship with his brother had become strained and distant since the battle against the Kalakeyas, noticed that something was strange. The elder prince had become withdrawn in the days leading up to his brother’s coronation, when he would hailed a commander instead of a king, but he abandoned the shadows for a moment to confront his brother.

“You are surely not having doubts about tomorrow, Baahubali, are you?” He asked, joining his brother in his vigil on the city walls, keen eyes searching the tents for whatever Baahubali looked for.

“No,” His brother insisted, his attention now turned to Bhalla as he blinked, seemingly surprised at the suggestion. “No, I do not worry over what tomorrow brings,”

“Then what troubles you, brother? You are about to be king but this does not phase you, what could possibly concern you now?”

“Our guests,” He said at last.

“Princesses leaving their homes in anything but a wedding procession is unprecedented for many,” Bhalla agreed, missing his brother’s cryptic meaning. “Some rulers wonder if you intend to take them all as wives,” He teased with a grin, but Baahubali visibly balked at the idea. “Such things are not unheard of,”

“But they are rare, and I have no interest in them,” It seems that you have no interest in one wife, Bhalla thought, letting Amma chose for you. He kept the thought to himself.

“Well, I think perhaps I should leave now. I see dust on the horizon, more guests are arriving,” Bhalla said, glad of a chance to leave the strange conversation he had entered into. Welcoming all the various foreign dignitaries was his last duty before becoming commander, and so he went to find more majestic attire as his brother remained on the walls, eyes now fixed on the approaching convoy. His heart leaped when he recognised the banners, and hurried to a more suitable place to watch the retinue make it’s way through the streets of the city.

Many of the royal guests came from lands Baahubali had forgotten he knew of, and many of the people had never heard of them at all, but Kuntala, the kingdom of rivers, was a close neighbour and most knew of it. The procession was met with cheers and shouts, which grew larger when the palanquin was seen, welcoming yet another princess with cries of joy. Everyone in the kingdom knew that their king would find a queen among the guests.

From his perch on one of the garden terraces, Amarendra recognised King Jaya Varma and Kumara Varma leading the processions in finery that surpassed anything he had seen them wear in the comfort of their own halls. Then, the crowd grew even louder and the palanquin came into view. It was not the same one she used on her supposed pilgrimage to the temple where they fought off the Pindari’s, it was far, far grander. The silver plated iron had been wrought in the shape of twins swans, encrusted with blue and green jewels that sparkled in the hot Mahishmati sun, and Baahubali recalled vividly the first time he saw her, beautiful and terrible in the midst of battle. At that moment he thought he grew to love her even more.

As the palanquin made it’s ascension to the royal palace - her future home, Amarendra thought with a smile - he hurried to keep up, reaching the palace at the same time the procession did. It was all he could do not to reveal himself then and there, as the palanquin entered the inner courtyard outside the throne room and she was obscured from view, entering the hall. Baahubali settled for waiting outside the doors as the Kuntala delegation presented themselves before Rajamatha and Bhallala Deva. The throne room was large, almost impossibly so, in order for all the ministers, merchants, generals and ambassadors to attend when the kings before them held court. His many teachers had told him that it was the largest room ever built, excluding the great temple of Mahishmati, and so the sounds coming from the far side of the room at the foot of the thrones were indistinguishable from the dry movements of the leaves in the wind. Still, he waited, while what remained of the Kuntala delegation studied him closely. They recognised him vaguely, he reminded them of a lowborn simpleton who was in the service of the royal household for a month or so, perhaps everyone in Mahishmati looked the same after all.

Amarendra joined the growing crowd of the numerous lords and ministers who did not have the luck to reach the throne room in time, hoping to gain anonymity in them. His efforts were in vain, even if it was not for their deferential actions towards him Amarendra Baahubali is always noticeable. He had begun a rather casual chat with one of the junior ministers, who was surprised by the familiar way the future king conducted himself with him, when the doors swung open and the king of Kuntala stepped out, his sister at his side. She gave a sweeping glance to the group that had gathered outside, and paused when her eyes lock on Amarendra within seconds. He saw a single word pass her lips before she was out of sight once more. Shivdu. 


	2. A Gift

  
“I knew he was not what he seemed,” Devasena insisted with an infuriated huff, finding her seat in the queen’s tent. “His charade faltered too many times for it to be my unwarranted suspicion,”

“Are you sure it was him you saw, Deva?” Her sister-in-law asked, a teasing smile on her lips, “You were only passing by, he was in a crowd and a few feet away at least, could you not have been mistaken?” The queen was the only one that would dream of questioning the princess, but it needed to be done. Still, the yuvrani had never grown accustomed to being challenged, though her sister-in-law had been in the royal household for well over ten years. She responded with more venom than was necessary.

“I have never been so sure of anything in my life, Sister,”

“Surely it is better this way, then,” Sumitra said. “The future queen of Kuntala can not wed a lowborn simpleton, but a minister of Mahishmati? There is hope, perhaps,” It was a fate that Devasena and her sister-in-law never discussed, what would happen after Jaya Varma’s death. It was a subject too painful for the queen to bear, as much because it concerned her own childlessness as well as the death of her husband. A fate she had chosen, and readily, for at the time having no children seemed a small price to pay in exchange to spend her life at her lover’s side, but as the years wore on the price seemed to grow heavier. “What sort of things was he wearing, how much gold and jewels? Was there anything that would reveal his station?”

“I just saw his face, Akka,” Devasena replied, her voice softening a little.

“Think, please, we do not have much time. After the coronation we have been invited to remain in the spring palace as guests of the king, but we will not stay long. Before we leave we should know who Shivdu truly is, or his rank at least.”

“There was gold about his neck, I think,” Devasena said at last, “and I was surprised at the quality of the cloth he wore, it was very rich fabric. It should have looked out of place on him but it did not,”

“Not very unique, then,” Sumitra sighed.

“I only saw him for a moment,” Devasena thought over the brief glimpse she had of him for the thousandth time that hour, and felt her heart skip a beat despite the confusion and betrayal she felt.

“We shall have to make inquiries then, though I am not quite sure how we will go about it,”

That was when fate intervened on their behalf. Before they ate, handmaids and serving boys descended from the city laden with gifts behind esteemed ambassadors and ministers that distributed them among the royals outside the walls. Part of the coronation traditions, gifts chosen by the future king himself for his guests.

“His Majesty King Amarendra Baahubali of the great Mahishmati bestows these gifts on the kingdom of Kuntala, symbols of the respect and friendship that he wishes to prosper between the two kingdoms under his kingship,” The minister recited the message, identical to those that were delivered to the other kings. His eyes brushed over Devasena, who stood at her brother’s side as they received the gifts, with a knowing glint on the word ‘friendship’. “These gifts were handpicked by the future king, it is his hope - and that of all of Mahishmati - that you are honoured by them, and good relations will continue between the countries,”

Devasena knew exactly what was implied in the ministers eyes, and anger flickered in her own. She had heard of Amarendra Baahubali, pride of Mahishmati, well before he had been deemed the future king. His exploits as a famed warrior were renowned, but she was familiar with the way honour was distributed in warfare - the commanders were given all the glory, regardless of the feats they actually performed. Kumara Varma led men into battle, too.

Her sentiments concerning Baahubali were indifferent, like those to every other prince the surrounding kingdoms had to offer, until an ambassador from Mahishmati arrived with the express instructions that the princess of Kuntala was also invited. Amarendra Baahubali was searching for a bride, and Yuvrani Devasena was a candidate. She had almost refused to attend, but her brother had urged her to reconsider. He was not getting any younger, and good relations with Mahishmati would be vital for the queen of a small kingdom on the borders of such a large empire.

With her feathers ruffled, Devasena watched the handmaids lay out the gifts and one made a point of setting down one particular gift at her feet. Her brothers eyes met hers in confusion, eyebrows raised. The minister then retreated, followed by the servants, before Devasena stopped the girl.

“What is this?” She asked, and the girl dared to blush.

“It is a gift from His Majesty to Rajkumari Devasena, Lady,” She said, averting her eyes. “He commissioned it especially for the princess.”

“You may remove the covering, then,” Nervous, the girl hurried to obey. Devasena was vaguely aware that she was scaring the maiden, but her anger at that moment outweighed all other considerations. Slowly, the girl moved back the lush fabric of the cloth covering to reveal the most exquisitely designed bow Devasena had ever seen, complete with a quiver encrusted in silver set jewels to match. Only three arrows were in the quiver, their feathers dyed a bright a brilliant magenta. Beside them rested a single blue feather that she recognised immediately. It was from one of Kumara Varma’s arrows, the ones that Shivdu had carried.

Her brother and sister-in-law watched attentively as Devasena stared at the feather. Then she turned back to the girl.

“And what, exactly, is the meaning of this?”

* * *

Amarendra was awake to watch the sun rise on the day he would ascend the throne. He had lain awake in the pre-dawn grey, a mischievous grin on his face as he thought over his choice of gift. He wondered if she had seen the significance in his choice of feathers, if she had seen the lone blue token he had personally placed beside them. He also thought of the confusion he would have caused, the shock on her face as she realised his identity. As a small boy Amarendra had developed a reputation as a trickster within the royal household, wrecking relatively harmless mischief throughout the halls of the palace in an effort to amuse Rajamatha. When she had ordered him to cease his antics, however, he had religiously obeyed. He supposed this was the first time he had disobeyed her, but he did not think it a serious indiscretion. If it meant Sivagami would gain the perfect daughter-in-law he did not think she would mind.

Devasena, too, had not been able to keep her thoughts from the gift when they should of been on the impending coronation, but for different reasons. She revisited, again and again, what little information she knew to be true and again and again she could not reason with it. Shivdu, or whoever he was, held a notable position in the Mahishmati court. He had left a feather in a gift given to her by his king for ambiguous reasons. The king of Mahishmati had gone out of his way to impress her. No other princess had been given a personalised gift. The handmaid had sworn there was no court minister that matched Shivdu’s description, that the only one she could think that resembled him was the king himself. Still, the little riddle he had left her could not be solved. It did not cross her mind that perhaps it was him making a joke.

“Perhaps he was acting on the Rajamatha’s orders, coming to Kuntala disguised in order to see what you were like,” Her sister-in-law offered, taking over from Vaishnavi as she brushed out Devasena’s hair. They had three hours until they were to be in their finery for the coronation.

“A queen ordered an official to spy on an ally’s court. A day ago I would not have thought it possible, now it is all too likely,” Devasena’s voice was bitter, her words turning sour on her tongue. As a girl she had admired Sivagami Devi, the queen and sole ruler of a vast empire that had risen to power on her own cunning alone, but the last faint remnant of respect that had endured through Mahismati’s imperialism, encroachment into Kuntalan territory and vicious hunt for a bride withered away and died at the thought.

“It surely means the Rajamatha has taken an interest in you, Deva,” Sumitra was clearly worried by the notion. “If Mahishmati approaches us for your hand, Kuntala is not in a position to refuse. We can not anger our strongest ally,”

“They are our greatest threat also,” The princess countered, rage watering her eyes. She remembered her lesson, yes, she remembered them well. Even as she watched Vaishnavi lay out the hair ornaments and jewellery in front of her Devasena could recall her tutor’s words clear as day. The Pindari are nomads and wanderers, princess, and our borders can protects us from them. But no waterfall can resist the might of the Southern empire, and if Kuntala is destroyed it will be at the hands of a Mahishmati army, not a band of vandals.

“It is possible that his majesty has no interest in a warrior-bride,” Vaishnavi murmured, drawing her mistress away from her belligerent thoughts. “You may take comfort in that, if you wish, my lady,”

Devasena had no wish to marry a king of any country, let alone that of Mahishmati. The only man she had ever considered a future husband had recently proved himself an illusion, a trick, a lie, and if that had embittered her heart all the more on account of this slight than so much the better. Of course, she would not admit as much, pride having always been her vice. It was the safe haven she had retreated to time and time again in the absence of any other shelter.

“We are neglecting the point,” Devasena said, reclaiming the conversation. “Kuntala has suffered a grave offence from a powerful ally,”

“It was not intended as such, Deva, clearly you can see that,” Sumitra argued, it becoming increasingly obvious just how angered her sister-in-law had been by this. “If Mahishmati had intended to insult us they would have done so outright, and would never have invited us to it’s heart as honoured guests,”

“Lesser kingdoms would count the interest of the Rajamatha Sivagami has an honour itself,” A quiet voice rose from the shadows, and Devasena turned to glare at her quiet brother. Lesser kingdoms with lesser dynasties and lesser pride, she almost said, kings and their daughters with less dignity and self respect than their offices demand.

“Something must be done, in any case,” The princess continued, ignoring her brother’s counsel. “Some retribution, an apology, at least,”

“No,” He answered simply.

“Anna-”

“We will do no such thing, Devasena,” Jaya Varma repeated, stepping out of the shadows. Gone was his reclusive demeanour, instead there stood a king in all his authority, voice firm and unwavering against a sister’s fury.

“Mahismati is laughing at us, Anna, are we to tolerate it?”

“You do not understand,”

“I understand very well!” Devasena shouted. She rose out of her chair before continuing her tirade, uncaring that the entire retinue could likely hear her. “I understand that a Mahishmati spy infiltrated our royal household, brother, and you will do nothing!”

“I was not the one who fell in love with that Mahishmati spy,” Her brother countered, eyes flashing. His rebuke stung more than Shivdu’s betrayal did. Jaya Varma, her kind, gentle brother, rarely raised his voice to anyone, let alone his sister. She knew in that instant that she was acting as insufferable and petulant as she had once been want to do, a tendency the years had not eradicated.

He sensed her change of heart, and immediately his face softened. “Your temper will be your undoing, Deva,” He warned her, as their mother had done before him. “We can not invoke the ire of Sivagami Devi, whatever retribution we seek she will visit upon us tenfold,”

“We trusted him, Anna, and how did he repay us?” Devasena questioned her brother softly.

“It can not be helped,” He replied. “Come, wife,” He then added, turning to Sumitra, “Let us ready ourselves,”

Together her brother and sister-in-law departed, leaving the princess with Vaishnavi to glare straight ahead as all manner of emotions swirled within.

Amarendra, however, faced no such turmoil. No, watching over the city he would be crowned king of in a matter of hours only incited excitement within him. And, of course, anticipation of his imminent reunion with his love.

 


	3. Jai Mahishmati

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baahu's coronation, and Devasena meets Bhalla.

Beneath the merciless sun and surrounded by stone, the Kuntalan delegation felt as though they would cook before the ceremony even began. The gardens and pools scattered across the city provided a reprieve for some, but not for the visiting royals, their seats of honour fully exposed to the belligerent, dusty heat. As Devasena strode forward, the empty throne of Mahishmati coming into view, she could not help but yearn for her waterfalls and rivers, the comfort of home. She became increasingly certain that Mahishmati held nothing favourable to her, and that she would demand a swift return home as soon as she had dealt with Shivdu, or whoever he was.

At least, Devasena thought with pride, she was not invested in the pitiful competition that had emerged among the other delegations. Falling asleep the night before, Vaishnavi had recounted to her the whispers of the Mahishmati handmaids as she stared up at the tent canopy. The Raja of Vijayapuri, they said, had shamelessly boasted of the innumerable virtues his daughters possessed in front of the whole court, as though the show of arrogance would sway Sivagami Devi. The Raja of Trayambaka, they said, had showered the royal family in gifts and tributes, the finest silks, gold and jewels the country had to offer, as though the show of wealth would sway Sivagami Devi. And the most scandalous of all, the Raja of Madhulaipura, they said, had not even responded to the invite, instead Yuvrani Varuni had presented herself before the court, as though the show of boldness would sway Sivagami Devi. As Devasena walked passed them all she could feel their glares in her back, another rival to contend with as they clamoured for the attentions of one man. Well, Devasena thought, they are welcome to him.

Not a moment had passed since Devasena had found her seat beside her brother when a roaring cry broke out amongst the crowd, resounding against the stone buildings until it was thunder - Jai Mahishmati! Jai Mahishmati! Jai Mahishmati! Almost in unison they turned, to see the great Rajamatha Sivagami Devi arrive in all her stately glory. Though silver streaked her hair, a warrior’s strength - a mother’s strength - remained deep in her bones, a dignity that surpassed the touch of years, and despite herself Devasena was in awe. A part of her had wondered, hoped even, that once the regal state in which she had been introduced diminished the Rajamtha would be revealed to be as any other woman. She was wrong. The woman that ascended the platform was nothing if not a queen of queens, second only to the divine - and she knew it.

And then there was a rumble, like a storm brewing, and it was if the air itself chanted and sang for the kingdom. The anthem announcing the presence of Baahubali.

But when the royal chariot passed her, and the king’s face came into view, Devasena saw that it was not Baahubali before her. Baahubali, the great prince, Baahubali, the esteemed warrior, Baahubali the future king, was not the trickster she saw. It was Shivdu arrayed in the finery of kings, it was Shivdu who ascended the steps to the throne, it was Shivdu who was blessed by Sivagami Devi herself. It was for Shivdu the people cried. Baahubali, Baahubali, Baahubali, a chant for a god more than a man, a chant for a king.

* * *

 

Amarendra did not see her, however. He had imagined the moment their eyes met over and over again, ruminating on the exact expression she would wear when he sent her a mischievous grin. Would her beautiful, dark eyes grow wider when she recognised him? Would her lips part ever so slightly, before tightening into that familiar frown? He never found out, of course. The entire spectacle had overwhelmed him, the sunlight glinting off the gold of the crowd and their thunderous clamour seemingly separating him from the world. He had not been able to think of anything else except the pride so evident in the Rajamatha’s eyes as she crowned her Baahu king.

After that, the new king was hurried away, back through the palace halls to prepare for the feast. Cloistered in his chambers, he attempted to regain his bearings, while his mother and Kattappa shone with pride beside him. Amarendra thought he could see all their hopes for the future in their faces, and not for the first time indulged himself in wondering what his future would look like as a king, as a husband, and then his heart gave a leap at the idea of him as a father. Of course, he had to do something very important before any of that might occur… He could not avoid the trickster grin that spread on his face at the thought of the yuvrani’s shock.

“Baahu, king or not, is the same I boy I raised,” Sivagami noted fondly, while Amarendra ducked his head in a bashful attempt to conceal his amusement.

“Your Majesty, I would say that he is the man you raised,” Kattappa suggested, and the Rajamatha laughed.

“Yes, a great man, and a great king, too,” She said, and looked directly into her son’s eyes as she spoke. “You will live in legend, Amarendra Baahubali,” It was as though the very utterance of his name sent ripples in time, solidifying his place in folktale and lore for millennia to come. A name she had given him, when he was parentless and nameless. “Your reign will be long and glorious,” Sivagami would ensure it was so. Her throne may have been built on the blood of her enemies, but Baahu’s would be built on his strength and her toil. It was as it should be.

“And fruitful, too, Amma,” At that, his mother shone, as he knew she would. For months he had been obedient to her and her wishes for him to settle down, but not actively interested in the future she had mapped out for him. Now, well, now Amarendra could see his future clearly.

“You and your children will ensure that Mahishmati prospers for a thousand years,” Kattappa promised him, his face radiant at the prospect, and Baahu felt more elated than ever. His uncle would be a good grandfather for his children, when they came in time.

“You should ready for the feast,” Sivagami directed, her mind moving fast. “All your esteemed guests will be in attendance,” All of your choices for a bride, Baahu understood it to mean.

* * *

The Kuntala delegation had intended to arrive at the palace earlier than their international counterparts, but Devasena realised that the banquet was clearly much anticipated when she stepped out of the palanquin to see that all the other royal guests had already been welcomed into the new king’s halls. It did not ease her mood, and so she could hardly be blamed, given the context, for her following actions. For, instead of accepting the blessings and welcomes of the nobility that awaited on the steps, she walked ahead of her congregation and without so much of a thought for majesty and royal propriety marched in through the door as though it were birth right to do so.

The attendants stood dumbfounded at the sides, the officials gaped and the foreign diplomats quickly began to gossip. Of the Kuntala party, Jaya Varma was the only one who recovered in time enough to follow her, so accustomed was he to the unpredictable nature of his sister’s pride. He weaved through the frozen crowd in haste, leaving his queen to salvage the situation in a diplomatic, if panicked, fashion. It seemed, and not for the last time, that Deva was always leaving destruction in her wake after all. Not that she payed any heed to that, storming through the halls the princess had only one goal in mind, and she was determined to achieve it.

“I demand a private audience with His Majesty,” She announced, coming to stand outside what was evidently the king’s quarters. The austere halls leading to it were littered in flowers and other festive ornaments, and they had appeared even more vast as she neared her target, the number of people reducing until it was just her and guards that sent curious looks her way, exchanging confused glances.

As the yuvrani of Kuntala, the daughter of the most venerated ruler the kingdom still held in memory and it’s future queen, Devasena had rarely encountered someone who dared to refuse her. If it was not her status that intimidated them, it was demeanour, the manner of a warrior queen who’s iron will alone meant she could battle anything she encountered and triumph. Never in her life had she been responded to with mockery, therefore the guard’s reply, naturally, took her by surprise.

“So would many other young women, my lady,” He joked, leering at her as he closed the distance between them. “Who are you to make a demand of a king?”

“Yuvrani,” She corrected him coldly. Intimidation had never worked on her, and if he had been a smart man he would have seen the sharp edge in her eyes. “I am Devasena, yuvrani of Kuntala, and I demand an audience with His Majesty,”

“How many more yuvrani shall request the same?” The guard asked, while his companion on the other side of the double doors watched apprehensively. “The shame of it!” He dared to add.

“I am the future queen of Kuntala, not a hopeful bride nor conquest, and you will do as I ask,” She repeated, enraged both by his insinuations and the insubordination. As if she had not already felt humiliated enough by Shivdu’s actions - or whoever he was, this Baahubali.

The raised voice of the princess drew interest from a visitor, who had been sulkily making he was to pay his obediences to the new king. Even in his head, he thought of his brother’s new title with no small amount of bitterness.

“Yuvrani,” A voice greeted her from behind, and Devasena snapped around to see him. Confronted by her furious gaze, the man before her did not balk away.

“You are?”

“The new commander of Mahishamti’s forces,” He introduced himself, clearly displeased by having to explain his status. “Bhallala Deva, son of Rajamatha Sivagami Devi,” Brother for the king. “You would have seen me being bestowed my rank,” Not that anyone had payed any interest to the commander in chief, not when King Baahubali was being crowned. “You are the yuvrani Devasena,” If he had not heard her fury from down the hall he could have guessed from her elaborate wardrobe, the blue hues of Kuntala wrapped proudly about her and silver swans adorning her.

“Yes,” The yuvrani was struggling to maintain a cool exterior, despite all the rage and pride she had simmering just below the surface. There was something that unnerved her in his mannerisms, something that made her feel as though she was being scrutinised and assessed for weak points, like prey. Perhaps that was just the affect his eyes had on people.

“You wish to speak with my brother?” Decorum dictated he refer to him as the king. Decorum could wait.

“It is a matter most urgent, but I will not trouble you with it,” In the few seconds between her answer and his reply, Bhalla made an important calculation. A guess, a gamble, but one he considered worth the risk - the return was so much greater than the loss.

“He will not be available for some time, I should think,” He said slowly, schooling his features into a mask.

“It is his coronation day and the ceremonies are completed. What would keep him? Scheduling meetings would be inappropriate on such an auspicious occasion.” She demanded, clearly suspicious. He made her uneasy, and Devasena had learnt on the battle field to trust her instincts just as he had learnt how to take risks there.

“It is household matters that concern him today, personal affairs and the like,” Bhalla answered without a pause. “If you must know, he is meeting with the Yuvrani Varuni. It seems he has a fondness for bold women such as her highness,” For a brief moment he saw the yuvrani’s perfect armour fail her, a flicker of her true thoughts passing over her face before they were gone, hidden, concealed among isolating mountains like her pretty kingdom. Was it hurt? Betrayal? Anguish? It was too fleeting to tell.

If Devasena had been thinking straight, she might have seen the confused looks the guards behind the prince sent each other. She might have noticed how smoothly the words flowed, indicating a deliverer well versed in sly tricks and manipulations. She even may have listened to her heart, that railed against the very notion. Shivdu had tricked her, insulted her perhaps, but such slander was unjustified. Devasena, however, had always been someone who took action first, and reflected later. And that fact had the potential to destroy her.

The regal delegation of Kuntala was not present at the feast that night. Rumour had spread of the fiery, impudent yuvrani that had stormed the palace in search of the king, and when she was refused access to him departed in a similarly thunderous manner. Some worried over what it meant for Mahishmati’s trade with the northern kingdom, or what the diplomatic implications of such a symbolic action meant for future relations. Most considered it a stroke of good luck, one less beauty for their preferred candidate to contend with in seeking the new king’s attentions. And if the new king looked disappointed, well, no one noticed.

 


	4. Diplomacy

With the invitations to the coronation that spread to the foreign courts also went access to the Spring Palace on the banks of the great river. If any delegation had wished to prolong their stay, or if tents outside the city walls were deemed to uncomfortable for the esteemed guests, the palace had been graciously opened to them. At the time, Devasena had scoffed at such a show of decadence and wealth. When your home was a palace what need did you have for another, similarly grand estate? Now, however, it was a convenient refuge. If anyone should ask, the yuvrani had retired to the cool of the river after finding the capital’s heat too much to bear.

What Devasena had found there was in excess of anything she might have dreamed. Instead of the gaudy palace of gold and stone she’d anticipated, she found a sanctuary of lush, sprawling gardens. If not for the much more humid climate and the harsher sun, Devasena might have mistaken it for part of the river plains of Kuntala. The produce of the kingdom all came from the lower altitudes, where it was a fertile heaven of green. Perhaps if she had not come in such a dark mood, she may even have enjoyed her stay there. As it was, her righteous fury multiplied within the garden terraces.

The Kuntala delegation, however, remained in the capital, with the notable exception of the yuvrani and her handmaiden. Jaya Varma, on behalf of his sister, was reluctant to entertain discussion with the palace and instead remained mostly in his tent, in a similarly bad mood. Of course, he had never had the countenance to rival his sister’s anger, he had never met or heard of anyone who did, but he was sufficiently grumpy enough to wreck havoc within the confined quarters of a royal camp.

“Surely you attending is a greater punishment for Mahishmati than having you skulk in the shadows,” Sumitra said on the third day, when she’d finally lost patience with his antics. Devasena’s rage she was familiar with, even if she had yet to learn how to contain it, but her husband’s bouts of foul mood were few and far between, and so in all their years of marriage she had never grown accustomed to his discontented sighing. It irritated her beyond believe.

“What is your meaning?” Her husband had the nerve to ask, feigning ignorance. He knew full well his behaviour was unbecoming of his station and wearing his wife’s patience thin, but he was too petty at this stage to alter it.

“My meaning? My meaning?” Jaya Varma regretted his words instantly, “If you could express your vexation to this Baahubali rather than take it out on me, this entire issue would soon be over!”

“And how am I to do that? Shall I accuse the great king of Mahishmati of maliciously seducing my sister and demand an apology? It would cause a diplomatic crisis!” He answered. No, directly attacking this great state would only bring more humiliation to Kuntala and to Deva. After the prayer ceremony and his sister’s song word had spread fast that the yuvrani had fallen for the simpleton from Mahishmati, and she had done little to counter the claims. Everyone knew of her affections for him, and if it was revealed that this stranger was in fact the disguised Baahubali, well, it would likely not bode well for anyone involved. Excepting Mahishmati, of course, their empire had much to gain from undermining the small mountain kingdom and their future queen. It made them look weak, it made Deva look weak, and her brother worried for what the future would hold for them all.

“I’m not asking for a diplomatic crisis, I am merely suggesting that you discretely investigate this incident,” His wife said evenly, “I too feel betrayed, remember that I invited him into our home just as much as you did. This does not mean that we must break all ties, in my heart I can not believe he had any ill will against us,”

“No ill will? He stole into our household and-”

“His good nature never faltered, and that is a hard thing to feign,” She said. “You are our king, you must chose what path we will take, be it conciliatory or a severing of ties. Either way, you must stop your grumbling, I have had enough of it,” For the first time in days, a smile was on Jaya Varma’s face.

“You are right,” He said, “I will believe you when you say his intentions were good, if misguided, and investigate. Besides, we can not risk the good relationship the kingdoms share,”

“You will go and meet this Baahubali, then?”

“No,” Jaya Varma’s continued grin now unnerved his wife. “I shall send them someone who is more difficult to deal with than me in my foul mood,”

“What would be a curse greater than you in this mood?” Sumitra asked, only partially under her breath. Then it dawned on her. “Absolutely not. No. I forbid it, he’s not a diplomat, he’ll just disrupt-”

“Precisely,”

* * *

Kumara Varma was incredibly surprised when his brother-in-law entrusted him with diplomatic relations between Kuntala and Mahishmati, and in the wake of the yuvrani’s dramatic scene no less. Despite his carefully cultivated reputation on the battlefield, ambassadorial positions had always been beyond his reach. They had never much interested him as a child, diplomats were not often granted glory in legends, and oh! how he aspired to be a legend, but in time he came to respect it. Any level of importance would earn esteem, and to have an opportunity to handle such an important issue, Kumara Varma was very surprised indeed.

As he walked up the long road to the palace, which was inconveniently constructed at the height of the city, he grew anxious as to what he should say. He began to react not asking his sister’s advice on how to even greet the king and Rajamatha. The strategy briefing they’d given him was worthless if he embarrassed himself outright by fumbling with the preliminary honours.

 _Greetings, Your Majesty, from Kuntala_ \- No, no, much too informal. He was meeting a king, after all, and the king of Mahishmati after all. He was the most powerful man on the continent, he could not risk such familiarity.

 _Your humble servant Kumara Varma_ \- Absolutely not! As brother-in-law to the king he was the second highest ranked man in Kuntala. Besides, his elder sister had clearly instructed him that he was to be firm and polite, ask for and accept apology, but to remain prideful, respecting Kuntala’s independence. That ruled out obediences too… What was he to do?

By then the heat was affecting him, he could feel the sweat trickling down his back, soaking his fine clothes, and his mind began to wander in dizziness. The sun was relentless, and the fact the stones trapped the scorching heat only worsened his condition. When he finally reached the steps to the great hall, all Kumara Varma could think was that at least Kuntala had the decency to hold court in a valley, not at the peaks of their mountainous terrain.

He found that all of his worries went to nothing, however, as when he entered the hall he considered himself fortunate not to have died from a heart attack. Kumara Varma had politely lowered his gaze, eyes trained to the floor as he approached the dais, and barely found the courage to look up when he came to a stop. When he did, he was rendered speechless from the shock, and could not have spoken if he tried. Understandably, of course, for in the high seat of Mahishmati sat none other than Shividu in place of the famed Amarendra Baahubali, newly crowned king and the greatest warrior living. Kumara Varma was reduced to staring, eyes and mouth wide open as Shivdu only grinned.

“Welcome, my friend, I am very glad to see you,” He said, stepping down off the throne and extending his arms to Kumara Varma. Unable to react, he stiffly accepted the embrace and felt the eyes of hundreds on his back.

“Baahu, you know our Kuntalan guest?” A woman questioned from the side, and Kumara Varma felt something drop in his stomach when he saw her. He did not need any help to recognise the Rajamatha Sivagami Devi, she was unmistakable. A Rajamatha that was under the impression that Shivdu was… That Shivdu was her son.

“I do, Amma,” The man before him said, “This is Kumara Varma, brother to the Rani of Kuntala, and a renowned warrior, brave of heart,” Coming from Shivdu the words were earnest and kind, though he had heard similar things said of him in mockery.

“It is good that the Kuntala delegation has returned to us,” The Rajamatha said, and perhaps she would have said more, but Shivdu spoke first.

“If it please the court, a reunion of friends is a private matter, I would adjourn the court for an hour. The Rajamatha will hear the urgent matters,” And with that Kumara Varma was whisked away, out of the hall and into an adjoining room before he could even comprehend what was happening.

“The Kuntala delegation has been absent since the coronation,” Shivdu said, turning to him once they were behind closed doors. “Then I am told that the yuvrani left for the Summer Palace. Kattappa was unable to find out why,” His friend, however, was unable to follow the conversation, let alone explain.

“You are Shivdu,” Kumara Varma said, backing away a little to see him fully. Undoubtedly, it was Shivdu. “And you are also Baahubali?”

“Yes, my friend, I am Amarendra Baahubali,” The king confirmed. “Do the rest of the delegation know?” Does Devasena know?

“Yes, they saw you at the coronation,” Kumara Varma had attended as well, but as he was not of royal descent he had been stationed a considerable distance away from the main event. He had only learnt later, after Devasena’s unfortunate outburst. “The yuvrani came to see you, for an explanation, but she was turned away,” Kumara Varma was nothing if not loyal, and the idea that Deva had been refused so callously made his blood boil.

“Devasena was here?”

“Yes, and was met with insult,” He had not been indulged by his sister in learning the details, she was wary of his tendency to gossip, but what he had learnt painted a dark picture.

“Insult?”

“There is a rumour that you were meeting with yuvrani Varuni, and so were preoccupied when she asked for an audience,”

“Lies,” Shivdu said, and for the first time Kumara Varma saw something other than a sunny countenance in his friend’s face. There was true rage written across his features.

“They made some crude accusations against her as well, from what I understand,” Devasena had come barreling into the tent, her eyes ablaze, thundering about the indecency of guards and their assumptions, believing that she would act in such an unbecoming manner beneath her station. Kumara Varma had not heard much beyond that, as his sister and brother-in-law had followed trying to calm her down. “She left soon after,”

Before Kumara Varma could say anything more, Shivdu had pushed passed him and out the door, and all he could do was trail behind him. Some guards frowned at them as they walked, but few dared to question the king as he rushed across the palace halls, down countless stairs, until his companion realised they were in the stables and his friend was mounting a horse.

“Baahu?” A voice came from behind, and Kumara Varma turned to see a dark eyed man in armour approaching. “Where are you going at such a time?”

“Bhalla, tell Amma that I will be back soon,” Shivdu said, showing no indication that he would slow. “I have something important to do,” By the look of recognition on the stranger’s face, Kumara Varma might have guessed who had started such a vicious lie.


	5. Hearts and Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devasena makes a new friend and Baahu comes to the Spring Palace.

Devasena was only six years old when she picked up her first bow, but since that day she had never experienced any feeling as exquisite as drawing an arrow close to her heart and hearing the bowstring sing as she sent it flying. Her sister-in-law found peace with devotional song, her brother found peace with his art and she found peace with her weapons. When she practiced her sword stances, or successfully hit her target, Devasena saw a momentary glimpse of the divine. The way every muscle in her body tensed, anticipating the release of the arrow, and the split second between the arrow whistling through the air and it hitting the target was the closest the yuvrani ever came to freedom.

Additionally, it was very good stress-relief. As the future queen of Kuntala, she’d learnt from a young age that it was inappropriate to scream and shout and throw objects at whoever dared to disturb you, but shooting arrows was allowed. She loved practicing her archery at any opportunity, and as a form of expressing her aggression Devasena came to relish it all the more. However, as a well raised daughter of kings she knew how a guest was expected to behave, and destroying the Spring Palace was not proper conduct. The yuvrani would never have dreamed of exercising her talents with a bow if it was not for the encouragement of a new acquaintance.

After arriving at the Spring Palace Devasena was politely received by the official and servant both appointed head of the household before retiring to the chambers made available to her. So exhausted was she that she only vaguely registered one of the handmaidens that showed her to her rooms mentioning that another princess was also in residence. None of the three attendants she had brought with her investigated the claim either. Even Vaishnavi, who by all accounts had an unnatural interest in other people’s business, did not pursue any further information about the guest. Consequently, Devasena was taken by surprise when she accidentally disturbed another’s rest.

Rising with the sun, a tumultuous night’s sleep had done little to temper Devasena’s fury, and she’d taken to wandering the extensive garden terraces. The desert sun was quick to disperse the morning mists, and before noon the yuvrani was forced to take shelter amid the mango groves in the eastern gardens. Perhaps her emotions influenced her gait, as in comparison to her attendants her feet made the most noise and her breathing was the loudest, but Devasena would never admit to it. She’d only just concluded yet another rant to Vaishnavi on the insult she’d faced at the hands of this Shivdu, or Baahubali whoever he was, and was still seething when a voice echoed throughout the grove.

“Who is it that has such angry mannerisms?”

A mountain accent. Devasena knew it immediately. Those that hailed from the mountain kingdoms had distinct accents from the people in the lowlands, and from a single sentence she recognised the nuances of the Udayagiri accent. But while Kuntala was a small kingdom nestled among the lush valleys and waterfalls of the tall mountains to the North, the Raja of Udayagiri reigned over the entire expanse of the Eastern mountain range, from the white caps to the barren lower slopes. Kuntala, though lacking in much excess resources, was contentedly self-sufficient, but Udayagiri despite it’s expansive terrain struggled to trade enough of their ore for food every year.

Devasena’s eyes followed the voice until she found a figure within the grove to her right. Lounging in the shade of one of the great trees, atop yards of the finest silk she was using as a blanket, lay a woman.

“You have an angry manner of breathing,” She explained, but strangely not unkindly. Devasena could not think of how you could say such an aggressive sentence with that expression on your face, but somehow she did. It made the observation even more offensive somehow.

“I am not always this way,” Devasena did not need to justify herself to this woman, this girl really, she couldn’t be older than she was, but the criticism had irritated her. If she came across as especially defensive, she didn’t really care.

“Then I hope you find peace in these groves,” Devasena gave out a bitter laugh at that. This woman was sounding far too peaceful for her liking, and unrealistic, Deva’s anger never dissipated after simply a small stroll.

“That is unlikely,”

This answer seemed to interest the stranger, and as she rose from the stretch of cloth and stepped into the light the yuvrani truly saw her face for the first time. She was beautiful, but in a way starkly different from Devasena’s beauty. Her features were small and delicate, a fragile sort of prettiness that made the yuvrani feel as though she needed to be shielded from the elements.

“What is it that troubles you so?” The woman asked, “You can tell me,” Devasana could not help but scoff at how presumptuous that was. In response, the girl extended her hand to the yuvrani, a mango offered in her palm.

“You would steal the Rajamatha’s mangoes?”

“They are the new king’s, are they not?” The response was so calm Devasena was almost impressed.

“Who are you to steal from their orchards?” She was not in a mood to defend any of Mahishmati’s royal family, but this woman, whoever she was, growing on her nerves.

“His cousin,” The girl said in answer. “His mother was the princess of Udayagiri and sister to my father, the Raja,” Devasena’s surprise was obvious. “We are equals, Yuvrani Devasena,” So don’t take such an imperious tone, was heavily implied, and the Kuntalan’s confusion at being recognised was also clear. “You are unmistakable,” She explained.

In the pause that followed the light summer breeze caressed the trees, and somewhere nearby a lonely bird call sounded. In the corner of her eye Devasena could see Vaishnavi’s panicked look.   
  
“I only regret I still do not know you,” Was all Devasena could think to say. The Raja of Udayagiri had many, many daughters, and from her understanding none were particularly exceptional.

“I am Rajkumari Kalaivani, and few outside my kingdom have heard of me,” The woman said, and only then did the yuvrani notice that she was indeed wearing the saffron and fuchsia colours of her kingdom. “Few in the world, however, have not heard of the future queen of Kuntala. Your reputation precedes you, and your beauty is famed,”

“I know full well what I am famed for,” Devasena said. It was not her beauty that was spoken of across the kingdoms, but her wilful manner and battle prowess. Outside of Kuntala, they feared her, and she would not have it any other way.

“Please, yuvrani,” Kalaivani said, noticing her glare. “If you must act on your anger shoot arrows at these trees and not your eyes at me,” Devasena’s eyes flashed.

“You-” She began, momentarily stunned, “How dare-” The princess raised her eyebrows, and Devasena pressed her mouth into a thin line. “Rajkumari,” She hoped that one word communicated her outrage. In response, Kalaivani merely threw the mango to her.

Despite the initial meeting, the two became fast friends. Kalaivani continued to test her, even when she held a weapon in her hands. The steward of the household was taken aback by Devasena’s request for a bow and arrow, but obliged despite his disapproval, and the yuvrani set to work releasing her rage onto the gardens. If she happened to destroy the Rajamatha’s ancient mango orchard in the process, it didn’t really matter to her. When she wasn’t firing arrows into the trees, with the rajkumari watching on the side, they’d feast on mangoes together. Within three days, they’d grown close. Devasena learnt in that time that the princess was smart, perhaps even smarter than her, and infinitely more patient. What scared her, however, was Kalaivani’s softness, she was too kind for her own good. Where Deva could be resentful and bitter, Kalaivani was only warmth.

Presently, Devasena fired her arrow at one of the trees and heard a yell of shock answer her shot. A shuffling of leaves revealed a figure had been resting in the lower branches amid the thick foliage, and a woman wrapped in fine blue silks descended to the ground.

“You are going to kill me one of these days,” Kalaivani said, looking decidedly disheveled.

“I thought the rajkumari would be hiding from the sun,” Devasena answered distractedly.

“Am I wrong in guessing there is someone else you’d much rather maim?” Kalaivani guessed, “A man?”

“Indeed,”

“My dear cousin, perhaps?” Devasena coughed, and the handmaiden to the side made an audible gasp. “You wear your emotions quite plainly, it’s admirable, but whenever I mention him your face reveals your feelings,” Kalaivani explained.

“I…” The yuvrani was unsure what to say, to tell the truth or feign indifference. She eventually decided on honesty. “He disguised himself and entered our kingdom as a simpleton, I took pity on him and gave him a position within our household,”

“You fell in love with him, yes?” If it was anyone else, Devasena would have admonished her for the audacity.   
“I revealed my feelings in public, and compromised the dignity of my station in doing so,” Her lullaby had been the talk of the small kingdom for weeks, and the absence of the man it had been sung for. “I am not easily embarrassed, rajkumari, but for him to simply disappear overnight, well, it was a clear and very public rejection,”

Kalaivani paused for a time as though contemplating.

“The cousin I know is a sweet and earnest man, he has always been a light in all our hearts,” She said after a time. “He would never have intentionally injured you, yuvrani, this I am certain,” She sounded sincere in her praise, and for all the anger Devasena held in her heart it was moved by the mention of his virtues.

“I must question his intentions, of course,” Devasena continued, “I knew he was much more than he appeared, you can not mistake a man like that to be anything but a warrior,” Despite herself, her enduring admiration was evident. Few surpassed her skill in combat, but the strength Shivdu possessed, and his speedy reflex… Even then she could feel his warm handprint at her waist. He had the potential to rival and surpass her, and she was sure he did. He’d proven himself brave as well, facing the charging bull to quell her suspicions. Perhaps the fantastical part of her had hoped that he’d put on such an act to come closer to her, but all that changed when she saw his face amid the glory of a coronation. “But now knowing his true identity, why would the prince of Mahishmati pretend to be of low birth and infiltrate an allied kingdom in such a manner?”

“You are suspicious of this kingdom’s intent?” Kalaivani questioned. “I suppose our lands are alike in that regard. My father has always wanted Baahu to succeed to the throne, not to honour his sister’s son but to secure the alliance between Udayagiri and Mahishmati. Bhalla, you see, is much more inclined to war and he does not have the same ties to my kingdom,”

“The Rajamatha’s foreign policy has been belligerent of late,” Devasena agreed. That was what made marrying daughters into Mahishmati’s palace so attractive to the kings of the surrounding lands, not the riches and expansive territory but the promise of peace it would bring. Such a strong kingdom was a threat to all it’s neighbours, and in the last decade as many as three formidable nations had succumbed to Mahishmati’s expansions.

“The Bhalla you refer to is his brother, Bhallala Deva?” She suddenly asked, remembering the man she’d confronted outside the king’s chambers.

“Yes, his brother and cousin,”

“What is your opinion of him?” At the question, Kalaivani’s face fell.

“He is strange, of late,” She said after a pause. “Bhalla was wilful and arrogant as a child, cunning too, but never cruel. Under his father’s influence I fear I do not recognise him,”

Devasena did not know much about the family dynamic with Mahishmati’s palace. She did not care for gossip, and of course it had not been relevant to her, unlike most princesses she’d never thought to marry outside her own borders. Of course, most princesses were not born to be Queen Regnant. She did, however, understand that there was no love lost between Sivagami Devi and her estranged husband. He was rumoured to be cursed and deformed, and embittered because of it as much as his wife’s power.

“I met him when I was waiting for an audience with the new king,” Devasena said, remembering the predatory eyes of the new commander of Mahishmati. “He informed me of His Majesty’s preference for the yuvrani Varuni,”

“Yuvrani Varuni?” Kalaivani’s brow knitted into a frown. “Of Madhulaipura?” She was about to say that Baahu had never even met the aforementioned princess, that all she knew was that the Rajamatha had dismissed her as a bride candidate for her lifeless eyes, but she was unfortunately interrupted.

“Your Highness!” Anambika called, racing towers the two princesses from across the groves. “Your Highness! The King has come here, and asks for Kuntala’s yuvrani,”

“Deva,” Vaishnavi cried, formal address forgotten in her haste, “Deva, it’s just as you said, he’s Shivdu,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here :)


	6. Orey Oar Raja

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baahubali arrives at the Spring Palace and reunites with Devasena.

_Orey oar ooril, orey oar raja,_  
_Orey oar ooril, orey oar raja,_  
_En kaathil kadhal solluvaana…_

Amarendra practically leapt off the horse, throwing the reins to an approaching attendant in his haste. While the servant seemed surprised at his speed, the king counted himself fortunate that he had not run the last leg of the journey, having suppressed the urge ever since the Spring Palace came into view. Were it not for the call that rang from the high terraces, heralding his arrival, word would never have spread fast enough for Devasena to prepare for their inevitable reunion. As it was, the head of the household did not even have enough time to come receive his newly crowned liege when Baahu was met by none other than his cousin.

He had not seen Kalaivani in many years, and though he had not looked to see her he had expected to be greeted warmly by her at their next meeting. It was what made his actual reception all the more jarring. Foregoing all formalities and social decorum, the princess was incredibly direct.

“She does not want to see you,” She said simply. It was not delivered in a cruel or kind manner, merely a statement of fact.

“Cousin-”

“On the chance that you are here for her she retreated to her rooms, and will not come out,” Amarendra guessed that the yuvrani would not take kindly to it being said that she ‘retreated’ in any instance, that was far too cowardly an action for her. Her pride would never allow it.

“I must see her,” He insisted, uncaring that many servants and attendants had now filtered into the hall. “Please,” He said. “Please, Kalai,” Devasena’s pride would forever guard her dignity, but the great Amarendra Baahubali had no qualms on pleading. The only thing he held higher than love was duty, and lowering himself was a small price to pay for them.

The rajkumari sighed, her gentle face softening into a look of concern.

“I will see what I can do, cousin,” She relented. Kalaivani spared a glance at the servants teetering on the sidelines, before turning with a twirl of her sari and leaving the mighty king to follow in her wake.

Amarendra was led across the palace halls to the southern wing, and to the state rooms where the yuvrani was situated. His cousin directed him to wait outside, and while she left to speak with Devasena he stood patiently outside. Distractedly he was pleased to note that it was one of the finer guest chambers. Perhaps the servants had recognised her regal character and honourably deferred to her, or more likely they’d sensed her stormy temperament.

“You may go in now,” Kalaivani finally said, nodding slightly as she exited. Amarendra only allowed himself a second of apprehension before crossing over the threshold.

It was startling to realise the contrast between Mahishmati and Kuntala in things as simple as decor and architecture. Amarendra had always seen her surrounded by the white stone and cool blue shades of her kingdom, never in the sandstone and saffron of his own homeland. Worry he had never felt before creeped into his mind. Did she like this place? What were her thoughts on this land, this people - her future home? Perhaps if she were standing before him he would have found an answer, but his eye searched the room and did not find her on the first or second try.

A flicker of movement finally caught his eye in the still room. A light breeze danced in the drape that separated the first room from the next chamber and he saw a figure sitting behind it. She was a barely discernible shadow, but his heart froze all the same. Transfixed, his eyes worshipped the trace of her outline and the world seemed to fade away until all that remained was her.

“Yuvrani,” He breathed, his words a prayer. “Devasena,” The figure hardly moved. “Forgive me, yuvrani,”

She truly did not wish to see his face, he concluded, that was the only reason for such a veil. The yuvrani was reserved, but never so concerned with modesty as to hide herself from view. Her anger must truly be great.

“I understand that I have offended you,” Amarendra said. “It was never my intention, please know that. I have only the deepest respect and admiration for you and your kingdom,” The figure was unmoved by his words. The elegant profile remained seated, not even looking his way. “I was wrong to disguise myself and take advantage of your kindness, and the kindness of your people, without revealing my identity,” Silence.

“If I had presented myself to you as myself, would you have accepted me, yuvrani? Would you have believed me?” Only his armour plate could have proved his identity, so he had kept it well hidden, wearing it beneath his clothes when the need occasionally arose throughout his extensive journey. “I only concealed myself so as to come to know you,” A presumptuous excuse, but an honest one. “On the day at the shrine, when the pindaris attacked, I fought them and saw you then,” Another, less confident individual may have been too wary to press on, but Amarendra did not pause for a moment. His words were sincere, he would not guard them. “I thought you were as terrible as a tempest, and too beautiful for this world. I knew then that I needed to meet you, and the more I learned of you the more I admired you, yuvrani,”

Slowly, he approached the curtain, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her face through the fabric. It was as though clouds had come to veil the moon, but no matter what he was still drawn to her hidden light.

“I am in love with you, Devasena,” Amarendra murmured, raising his hand to longingly caress the fabric that separated them. It was soft beneath his fingertips, and he was suddenly very aware that they were, for the very first time, alone with one another.

As Shivdu, what cause would a lowly servant have to be with a princess, and unattended at that? As the Raja of Mahishmati, well it was something he dared guess his mother would deem improper. Before he could consider the further injury he may have done to her honour, however, now that they were meeting in private, she spoke.

“Truly?” She asked, except it was not Devasena’s voice that spoke. No, this voice was higher, softer, and lacking in all the lyrical beauty of her mistress’s.

Amarendra tore back the curtain to reveal Vaishnavi. She was demurely sitting there, looking up at him in wonder.

“Where is she?” He said, sounding slightly hollow.

“Is what you say the truth, Your Majesty?” The handmaiden had always been well treated by the royal family she served, but never in her life had she dreamed of coming face to face with the raja of the mightiest kingdom on the continent, the legend that was Baahubali. Even then, to be caught defying him - tricking him! She could not help the quiver of fear in her voice, but she had to question him all the same, for Deva’s sake.

“Of course,”

“The yuvrani is in the gardens,” Vaishnavi said, “If it pleases you I will go and ask her to come speak with you, Your Majesty ” She gave an almost exaggerated bow, before scurrying away as fast as she could.

It took Amarendra a full minute to realise that she would likely not return. If Devasena had gone to the extent to use her handmaiden to deceive him, she would not be swayed to meet him. So, he did what any reasonable person would. He promptly walked out of the chambers, down the hall and, upon reaching the balcony, leapt off it and into the garden terraces.

It was any easy jump, and the gardens familiar to him since youth. It did not take him long to find her, and as he approached Amarendra wondered if he had strayed into a dream, so ethereal was her regal beauty. Even the flash of fury in her eyes when she saw him was gorgeous beneath his lovesick gaze, and his step was unfaltering.

Wordlessly, his cousin excused herself, just as Vaishnavi appeared calling out for Devasena. Kalaivani drew her away as discreetly as she could, while Devasena looked on, feeling decidedly as though she was being abandoned.

It was Devasena’s self-respect as the crown princess of Kuntala that kept her fixed to the spot, but she could not deny how her heartbeat quickened with each stride he took. Before she had struggled to consolidate Shivdu with the king she had seen crowned, but now it was easy. His powerful bearing, his warrior’s build, of course he was Amarendra Baahubali, not for a moment could he have been anyone else. This was her Shivdu, and Mahishmati’s Baahubali. This process, however, did not quell her rage.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” She demanded.  
“What you have heard of me is false, yuvrani,” He began, meeting her dangerous glare. In response, Devasena stubbornly turned away. “I do not know why this misunderstanding has occurred, but know that there has only ever been one in my heart, and it is not the yuvrani of Madhulaipura,” At that, her eyes returned to his.

“As for my deception of you and your family, I apologise profusely for this slight,” Amarendra continued, “What could I do but play the fool when all I wanted to do was grow closer to you,”

“Grow closer to me?” Her dark eyebrows arched in challenge,

“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you,” Her kohl lined eyes, fierce in the heat of battle, had locked with his as her sword felled her enemies in a rain of blood. In that moment she was no mortal woman to him, but a glorious slayer of demons, the goddess he worshiped before every battle, and even when the image faded he had known he’d be that warrior’s devotee until the end of his days. He had been in awe of her then, and was still in awe of her now, a queen before his eyes - his queen.

“Yuvrani, I would marry you if you are willing,” He murmured, and without thinking raised a hand to gently stroke her face. “Devasena…”

The yuvrani forgot how to speak. The only sounds in the world were the rustle of the leaves overhead, the slight chime of silver jhumkas that shuddered with each breath she took and her beating heart. The heart that already belonged to him.

“I will marry you, Amarendra Baahubali,” Devasena said, a single tear spilling over and racing to meet his fingertips.


	7. Rajathandhiram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarendra and Devasena return to the palace and approach Sivagami for her blessing.

With the throne of Mahishmati as bare as a widow’s forehead, to quote an infamously ambitious traitor, many of the surrounding kingdoms had looked on at the dynastic struggle with apprehension. Whoever claimed the throne would define the geopolitics of the continent, and with no clear line of succession the future was uncertain. Then, she came. Despite the pleading of her officials and the support of the people she refused to ascend the throne, guarding it for her sons, and guard it she did with an iron fist, felling her enemies with her sharp words, mind and blade alike. News of this fearsome woman and her exploits spread, but by the time word reached Kuntala she was more legend than mortal.

As a child, Devasena could not help but admire Sivagami Devi. Or rather, she admired the myth the Rajamatha had become. To a young princess, this sovereign seemed to enjoy everything she wanted, the power and freedom she expected to be denied due to her gender. As a young girl she saw her mother, her aunt, her sister-in-law condemned for their pride (a good woman is meek and obedient, yuvrani), but this woman was respected for her pride and they called it dignity. Even more so, when she picked up a bow she was scolded (it is inappropriate, yuvrani, women are nurturers not warriors), but when the Rajamatha felled her foes it was rajathandhiram, statecraft, and she was lauded for it. Then her grandfather passed, the throne went to her brother, and her mother fell ill. Suddenly the only shackle on her was her sister-in-law’s watchful eye, but Sumitra never confined her the way she once was, and never sought to break the young girl’s spirit as others had before. So when Devasena strived to mirror the esteemed woman she had heard so many fables about, the result was the cultivation of her own proud and formidable identity.

Even when Devasena’s understanding of statecraft grew, when she recognised that their ally Mahishmati was as much a threat as any and under the Rajamatha this looming doom had increased, there was still a lingering admiration for Sivagami Devi in her heart. As an admirer, a student even, Devasena was eager to know this queen in all but name, but as a daughter-in-law… The yuvrani did not know fear, she was too obstinate for that, but only a fool would not be daunted by the prospect.

Devasena was reminded of this only an hour into her engagement. Sitting beneath the mango trees in the embrace of her intended, she was asked to return to the city at his side.

“We will inform Amma of this and receive her blessing,” Amarendra explained. With his strong arms about her, head resting on his chest, Devasena imagined she felt his heartbeat change at the request.

“A raja does not need the rajamatha’s permission to wed,” She observed, her eyes on the horizon, “but a good son seeks his mother’s approval before bringing a bride into their home,”

“She will like you, I think,” He said, settling his chin in her hair. “You are not unlike each other,” In any other time Devasena would have struggled to conceal her delight, higher praise that young girl still hidden away inside of her could never have dreamed, but as a bride she did not know how to feel.

“I was not raised to be a good daughter-in-law, or a good wife,” Obedience was not a vital trait of warriors or queens, and she had never learnt it. Perhaps it was with the assumption that she would outrank her husband that this study had been neglected, but Devasena knew herself well enough to know that it would never be learnt. She was the pride and dignity of Kuntala and would never be submissive to her equals.

“Love me for all our lifetimes together and you will be a good wife,”

“That I can promise you,” My love for him had endured even my darkest rage, she thought wryly, it must be immortal.

“Amma wanted the best as a daughter-in-law, and you surely are,” Amarendra continued, and Devasena smiled as she felt a thumb stroke her cheek lightly.

“Most mothers ask more of a woman than devotion to the son,” She reminded him, “A rajamatha will be no different,” And Sivagami Devi was known to be a demanding woman.

“I know my mother, I know what attributes she admires,” He replied, “She values righteousness and dignity, honour and a sense of duty, all these would be requirements of my wife. But she also admires the brave, the courageous, the bold and even the stubborn,” Devasena was in a good enough mood to laugh at herself along with him, “You are everything she considers a virtue,”

She was still unconvinced. Devasena knew that a man respects women only so much as he respects his mother, that if he sees her belittled by his father then he will do the same to his wife in due time, surely it was a good sign that the man she loved was so deferrent to his mother. But at the same time, too much submission and his wife would be at the mercy of the mother. It was a delicate place to tread, in every household and every marriage. The difficulties were only magnified within palace walls.

“I never thought much about marriage before,” While all the other girls were drawing themselves as brides, Devasena was painting battle scenes, “I never though I’d marry out of Kuntala,”

“And now you will be Mahishmati’s daughter-in-law,” She could feel his smile above her. But the implications of his words worried her. Mahishmati’s daughter-in-law.

This was the most powerful kingdom on the continent, the rival of the Eastern nations and the centre of enlightenment that surpassed the Western antiquities. Though Devasena truly did not think that this country could rival her Kuntala in heritage, tradition or culture, they were the most dominant of the two. The memory in her mind of the high vaulted ceiling and imposing throne in their stone hall online emphasised it. What reception could she expect to have, the daughter of a nation that they thought was so clearly below theirs? Her pride would not endure the belittlement that was inevitable.

And of course there was the condescensions. Kuntala was belittled for it’s limited land and more peaceful inclinations. The rogue bands of pindaris had made them a laughing stock. Devasena wanted to remind them all that their halls were the first built, their traditions the most established and their royal line the most ancient. The blood that flowed through her veins was that of warriors and kings of old, not even Mahishmati could rival that - and not even Mahishmati could take that away from her.

At the thought, her hand reached for Shivdu’s on instinct, her finger brushing passed the gold encircling his wrist to feel the steady pulse beneath his flesh.

“Amarendra Baahubali,” She said, turning to face him, “We are to be wed, and I will leave my home and my customs for you. I can not do this without trusting in you and your protection of me as your wife,”

Amarendra was hurt by the statement, but with her eyes staring into his he dared not show it. It was not an unjust fear, given that their relationship began in half-truths and deception. So he held onto her, and took her other hand in his as well, squeezing only slightly.

“I know Shivdu, but I do not know Baahubali just yet,” Devasena said, summoning all the dignity her status allowed even though inside she felt fear like she had never known before. “Swear to me that you are mine, even before you are Mahishmati’s, and that you will uphold your duty to me just as you uphold dharma,”

“I will always honour you, Devasena, and protect you dignity and honour as my own. Everything that I am is yours, and I am at your service,” The yuvrani might have been shocked at how easily this exalted raja would set aside station and rank to pledge himself to her, but she knew that this man would do so for anyone, whether he was Shivdu or Baahubali. That was simply how he was, and she loved him the more for it.

* * *

Sivagami was admittedly surprised to see the strange troupe enter the great hall without any pretence of polite regretfulness for the interruption. They didn’t need tit, marching behind the king of Mahishmati no less, beside the court was not in session - Amarendra had seen to that before he departed with no reason given to her. She could not help but think the party an ill fit all the same, the blues and silvers of the mountain realm out of place amid the yellow tinted stone and the gold of Mahishmati’s proud sun. Still, she put her doubts aside as they approached the dais.

“His Majesty has returned,” She declared, smiling down on her son, “And he blesses us with our friends also,” She nodded in acknowledgement of the Kuntala delegation, and Kalaivani of all people. She briefly wondered why the rajkumari of Udayagiri was doing there, but did not ask.

“It is an honour to be received by Sivagami Devi,” The Kuntalan king answered, Jaya Varma she thought his name was. Sivagami ignored his pleasantries, instead turning her attention to the woman that stood beside her son.

“Yuvrani, you have graced us with your presence once more,” The Rajamatha said, her words kind and her tone scathing. “I had not looked to see you again,” Not after her performance three days ago. After demanding an audience with Baahu so audaciously, the yuvrani had stormed away in a fury that may have even rivalled one of Sivagami’s own bouts of rage.

Any other woman would have apologised profusely to the Rajamatha for her poor behaviour. The yuvrani of Kuntala merely looked on, daring to meet her eyes even. Sivagami came to the impression that it was fortunate the princess did not talk back or argue the unspoken criticism.

“Amma, I have a matter I would discuss with you,” Amarendra said, and Sivagami noticed a smile she had never seen before etched across his face. “I have found my bride, Amma,”

His bride. Baahu had found his bride. The woman standing beside him. That was who he had chosen.  
“When I was travelling the kingdom, I visited a shrine on the border between our two realms. The yuvrani Devasena acted in a staged trap in order to lure the pindari bandits to a special force of Kuntalan soldiers,” He continued, Sivagami’s stunned silence demanding his explanation. “The princess fought bravely, and I was curious to know more of her, so I pretended to be a simpleton in order too find a place in her household,”

Her son had become a village idiot for this woman. What had possessed him? Had he been so blind in lust to fall so entirely for her whiles? Sivagami could not help but scrutinise the yuvrani’s appearance. She was indeed beautiful, the Rajamatha could not deny it. Her face was round and held an enchanting sort of light, her eyes were large and expressive, her lips full and red like a setting sun… Unadorned she was a marvel, and in her regalia she was sacred. There was no physical flaw she could perceive, but that did not guarantee a pure heart. No, and her temperament seemed so opposed to her sweet airs.

“Amma, how could I not fall for such a virtuous woman?” It was as though her Baahu could read her thoughts. “Her courage, her valour, her intelligence, Amma she saw right through my charade. Her talent, her beauty, I knew she would be my bride almost as soon as I saw her. I hesitated only to ascertain whether she was worthy to be Sivagami’s daughter-in-law, but within the day I knew that too,” At his side, the yuvrani smiled almost shyly. Sivagami was inclined to believe it to be in earnest, but her increasingly foul mood led her to question whether such a shameless person was capable of such things.

“And you have come to inform me of the impeding nuptials?” The Rajamatha suggested, her irritation plain.

“We consulted Devasena’s brother and sister-in-law for their consent before we came to ask for your blessing and they gladly gave it,” Behind him, Jaya Varma and his wife nodded with kindly smiles. “Amma, we ask humbly for yours,” We?

“Why should I grant it?” The Rajamatha questioned. “I admit that I do not know much of your kingdom, yuvrani, I did not consider it to our advantage to solidify the alliance between us through matrimonial ties and so did not enquire into the eligibility of it’s daughters.

What I know of you is limited to our first introductions and your disgraceful antics three days ago. I must say my experience has only reaffirmed my initial assumptions, it would be an inconvenience to Mashishmati to have such a daughter-in-law,”

“You ignore the Raja’s praise of me so easily, do you forget that he is your sovereign and your son?” The yuvrani demanded, eyes blazing as her temper flared.

“Such impudence!” Sivagami raged, “The virtues my Baahu speaks of only demonstrate how seriously you have ensnared him,” She spat the word, “Great manipulator you are, to have entrapped and seduced Mahishmati’s legacy in such a way,”

“My coming before you is merely a courtesy, Rajamatha, I need not belittle myself for you nor heed your word! You are speaking to your equal if not your better!” Her better? Rajkumari or yuvrani it mattered not, she was a child, a nothing from a forgotten hovel of a mountain realm! She ought to grovel before the Rajamatha.

“How dare you,” Her words were a hiss, but the yuvrani did not cower. No, she lifted her chin higher in defiance. So many ambitious vultures had thrown themselves before Mahishmati’s throne, begging to be graced by their favour. One honourable, upstanding rajkumari after another turned temptress, while noble woman in their hundreds had begged to serve in the king’s household, at the behest of their conniving relatives if not their own cunning. Statecraft had taught Sivagami Devi to protect the throne ruthlessly, whether it was through butchery against usurpers or savage reproaches against overreaching social climbers. This yuvrani was skilled to have played seductress so effectively, but she would not sway the rajamatha.

“Amma, Devasena is deserving of the utmost respect both as yuvrani and as my wife,” Amarendra said, adjusting his stance ever so slightly so that he stood as a physical barrier between the two woman. As though the snake needed a shield. Behind them, the Kuntalan royals looked agitated at the escalating situation.

“Baahu, you should have consulted me before approaching her family in this way! Family affairs should be addressed privately, it is wrong to involve strangers in such business,”

“They are not strangers, Amma,” Amarendra’s voice was stern, in a tone Sivagami had never heard applied to her before. It hurt her more than it should of, and furthered her anger. He was openly contradicting her, and humiliating her in front of these people no less. How dare he? “I am their son-in-law, they will be my family and yours, you owe them respect and hospitality,”

Sivagami scoffed. Her family? She had lost her family long ago, with her father’s political fall, Vikramadeva’s demise and poor Amaravati’s death in childbed, her family had become restricted to the son’s they’d carried together. Bhalla and Baahu were her family, and she’d protect her family and their birthright until her last breath.

“They welcomed me into their home when I was a lowly simpleton, and shown all the kindness in the world, Amma,” She was tired of her son singing the praises of the yuvrani and her relatives, what more could be said of them? If anything, his deception proved their foolishness, their naïvety. Mahishmati would never have been so trusting. But it seemed so was her son, so intelligent a man had been compromised by them.

“Can you see no wrong in her Baahu?” Sivagami demanded, “How are you so blind to her faults?” It is worth noting that Sivagami Devi had never experienced romantic love, only maternal. She had never seen a man lose himself so hopelessly to a woman, there was no love lost between her husband and herself, and her brother-in-law had only been obligingly respectful to Amaravati, a different sort of love. Of course she thought this to be some accursed magic, rather than evidence of the potency of Baahu’s heart. “Her arrogance, her temper-”

“I will not stand here and be insulted like this!” The yuvrani cried. 

Unbeknownst of Sivagami, Kalaivani saw irony in her words. The rajkumari had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, but thought it curious that she accused Baahu of being blind to a loved ones flaws when the Rajamatha herself never saw Bhalla’s failings. She continued her silent vigil, however, no wanting to set fire to the volatile situation. Besides, she didn’t need to intervene, Kalaivani knew her cousin loved the yuvrani for her flaws as much as her positive qualities.

“Her only failing I perceive is that her archery skills are lacking,” Amarendra answered simply, “Under my tutelage she will improve,” The yuvrani turned to her future husband, clearly offended, and a more timid man would have fainted at her glare.

“Her archery?” That was not the answer Sivagami had been looking for, and to her understanding not a criticism applicable to the yuvrani.

“My archery?” The yuvrani murmured, still stunned, “Your joke is not funny,” Amarendra only grinned at her, ever the mischievous one.

“I agree with that,” The Rajamatha said, and for the first time her anger faltered on seeing her son’s joy. “So, yuvrani, you are skilled in warfare?”

“In both skills and strategy,” Some princesses chose to practice with blade and bow, but few went beyond that to become learned in the art of strategic thought and military action. So this woman could lead armies, that was indeed an attractive quality. “And talented in the arts?” Sivagami herself had only a basic grasp on the practical skills of war, enough to wield a blade when needed, but she had been forced as a girl into endless singing lessons and instruction in dance. Though she had seen little value in it, the process provided discipline, and the Rajamatha’s daughter-in-law, Mahishmati’s queen, would be talented in all things.

Amarendra jumped at the chance to assure his mother of the yuvrani’s talent.

“Devasena’s devotional songs are made sacred not by her words but the chime of her voice, Amma,” He looked to the yuvrani, this Devasena, and they shared a smile.

“You are devout,” Sivagami could not help but further approve of her, even as her heart ached watching her son’s smile shine down on the yuvrani. It was the look a young and foolish girl had yearned for and been denied, one the Rajamatha would never know. “Are you well learned, yuvrani?” She asked, pressing forward.

“I have been raised my brother’s heir, Rajamatha, I am educated in religious theology, the histories of our lands, the sciences, and diplomacy and statecraft. I know all that a king would know,” A future maharani in her own right, and knowledgable of diplomacy and statecraft, rajathandhiram was the most difficult of all for someone to learn of their own accord. Yes, it was good that she was prepared for a life ruling a court, Sivagami knew she had not been so when she entered the palace halls.

“It seems you are less of a bridal candidate and more of a sovereign,” It was not an insult or a compliment, merely a statement of fact. When the Rajamatha was issued a proposal, the ambassador from a foreign land would arrive with a portrait of the rajkumari, and yes, they would laud her devout nature and piety, but more often than not speak of her expertise in arranging a household, her ability to charm and entertain, her cultural pursuits. They did not praise her education or her proficiency in warcraft.

“I was raised a queen, Rajamatha, not someone’s bride,” The yuvrani answered stoically, “I never prioritised the prospect of marriage over my duty to my family or my kingdom,”

Then something happened that had never happened before. Sivagami Devi relented, and even smiled ever so faintly.

“Perhaps it is for the best that you have been given such a volatile disposition,” The Rajamatha said, “A daughter-in-law must be a match to the mother as much as the son, and you will have much to contend with,”

The Raja of Kuntala looked visibly confused, while his wife watched on concernedly. Sivagami thought it prudent to elaborate.

“Sivagami’s daughter-in-law requires such a countenance. You, yuvrani, are the only one worthy of my Baahu, and of me,”

“I thank you, Rajamatha,” The princess said, holding her gaze. They had reached an understanding, then. At her side, Amarendra shone with love and pride.

“I regret only one thing,” Sivagami began after a while, “I regret that I did not come to know of you earlier, then I may have arranged this match sooner,” Her son had spoken more in the last few minutes than he did in weeks, learning silence from his mother, and it seemed that the Rajamatha would also continue the talkative trend. “I have been searching for perfection, without considering what is best for my son,” She said, “And if I am honest, your beauty is the closest we shall ever see to perfection. It is as though the moon has descended to walk among us, you truly have no equal,”

“I understand your distrust,” The yuvrani said, “Suspicion is a requirement of rajathandhiram,” Sivagami smiled at that. Perhaps this yuvrani held promise after all. Under the tutelage of Sivagami, she was sure to flourish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided on Amaravati as a name just because it’s related to Amarendra and Sivagami was very quick to name Baahu, so it was either a spur of the moment decision informed by the mother’s name or something planned in advance, but it seems a strange convo to have had. Plus I was stuck so… At some point I want to write on Sivagami and Baahu’s mum’s relationship so :)


	8. Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalaivani finds strength from Devasena, while Kumara Varma proves himself in a way that would make Baahu proud.

Kalaivani had withdrawn from the court room as soon as it became clear that an impending storm was brewing. In this instance, neither Devasena nor Sivagami’s temper flaring were the cause of it, but the officials’ burdensome opinions on the marriage between Mahishmati and Kuntala. The Rajamatha had called the court to session so as to establish the match officially and as soon as possible, which was her first mistake as it was by that time three in the afternoon and the heat had become unbearable for even the most cold blooded of bureaucrats. They were all in a foul mood the instant they entered the hall, and their reactions to the Raja’s announcement varied from outraged to horrified.

“What does this minuscule mountain territory have to offer us, Sivagami?” One man called out.

“Surely there is a more advantageous match, Your Majesty!” Another cried.

To them, Kuntala was a useless land of rivers, mountains and not much else, and what did Mahishmati have to gain in an alliance with a kingdom they could easily conquer in all but a day? No, better to further relations with a more imposing state such as Madhulaipura or Vijayapuri, they had vast armies and terrain that would prove difficult to defeat.

“Kuntala has a strategic position on the border of many kingdoms, with rich resources to trade, that is why we have been allies for centuries,” Amarendra calmly countered, even as his mother looked ready to slit a throat. For trade, and that when Mahishmati first emerged from it’s dark ages as a federation of smaller kingdoms to form one great nation the newly established state needed validation and support from their more well-respected allies. At the time, the much larger and already ancient Kuntala with their illustrious bloodline of kings was an attractive ally.

“Is it not better for the Raja to take as a wife a woman from our own blood, to fortify Mahishmati’s prestige?” A minority opinion, it seemed, as the men surrounding the speaker moved roughly a foot away from him.

“The yuvrani Devasena is heir to the Kuntalan throne, how can we guarantee her loyalty to her husband and this nation without her renouncing the title?”

A crown princess? Now this was news to many, who had not even thought to look into the Kuntalan royal family for potential brides for their king. Delightful news.

“Will the yuvrani maintain her position as Kuntala’s heir?” Someone inquired, “Shall Mahishmati gain her lands when she ascends the throne?”

“Who moves that the alliance will be supported by the court on the condition that Kuntala is absorbed into the greater Mahishmati kingdom upon the marriage?” A cry went up in the court, and all the clamouring officials began to voice their agreement or protest.

Upon seeing Devasena and her brother’s outraged expressions, while Sivagami shook in fury, Kalaivani decided it was time to leave. The goings on in Mahishmati had always been more dramatic than Udayagiri, where whispers and hidden daggers triumphed over brash words and sword waving, and she was not one for confrontation to begin with. The rajkumari had visited her cousin’s home a handful of times, most instances because of some internal strife for her father’s throne forcing the royal children to flee to other courts, and so was quite familiar with the palace halls. It took her no time at all to locate her favourite old haunts.

An open room hidden among the higher terraces of the palace held a pool of crystalline water, and Kalaivani had loved to lounge there in the shade with Baahu and Bhalla as the princes hid from their tutors, her fingertips brushing against the surface as she watched the ripples form. It was even better at night, when the onerous heat of Mahishmati’s summer was cooled slightly and you could watch the reflection of the stars and moon on the water, or chart the heavens through the open roof. She was always surprised that the place was always well looked after, despite the desolation that made it such a tranquil place. Except, this time, it was not uninhabited.

“Kalaivani,” A familiar voice greeted her, though he sounded much more distant now.

“Bhallala Deva,” She said, turning to face him with her best smile. “I had imagined you would be with your father, discussing your plans for the future of the military,” Alternatively, watching the old man drink himself into a stupor. “Bijjaladeva is well, I trust,”

“Very,” Rumour had reached as far as Udayagiri of the rage of the late King Somadeva’s eldest son, who had very publicly opposed the Rajamatha favouring Amarendra to ascend the throne. Kalaivani knew him little, but well enough to expect he was probably hidden away somewhere purple with rage after seeing his worst fears come to life.

“It seems such a long time ago since we were here,”

“Everything has changed since then,” There was no hiding the bitterness in his voice and it hurt Kalaivani to hear it. The only thing that had truly changed was Bhalla. He was never as good a child as Baahu, impossibly happy and kind, but he was not a bad child either. Variably arrogant and quick tempered, yes, but so were many spoilt princes - Kalaivani’s brothers among them. His brother’s continued success and the jealousy fed to him by his father had changed him into someone different.

“We are all grown up now,” Kalaivani replied, ignoring his true meaning. Bhalla, however, never subtle, insisted on elaborating the point.

“Baahu is king now,” He said, lips curling. “He will be getting married soon too,” News did indeed spread quickly. Who had it been, she wondered, the guards by the doors, the minister who excused himself in a feigned fainting spell or the slave boy? Who had run across the palace to tell Bhalla of all people of his brother’s coming nuptials before they were even secured?

“I hear you are acquainted with the yurvani,” Kalaivani said, recalling the strange tale Deva had told her of a commander outside Baahu’s chambers, spinning webs of lies. “Or rather, you had an brief discussion about my cousins… how would we put it? Private affairs?”

“I had heard that Varuni of Madhulaipura had successfully sought an audience, how was i supposed to know the information was false?” The people of Mahishmati were never as good at lying as those from Udayagiri. Kalaivani had once thought it was just Baahu who was virtually incapable of it, but no, Bhalla was also terrible at deception.

“What would possess you to sabotage such a happy match?” She questioned, her tone not as calm as it should have been. She hated confrontation, yes, fear it even but she liked being treated a fool even less.

“Why is your cousin so much more deserving of matrimonial felicity?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say his name.

“More deserving?” Kalaivani recognised that adding ‘You sound like a child,’ was a mistake, and restrained herself. Bhalla had always scared her with the capacity of his anger, because while tempers like Sivagami and Deva were as mighty as thunder and storm clouds, Bhalla was wild lightning. He’d destroy everything in his path as he raged, and only think later of the consequences if at all.

“I am the eldest son, it is proper that I am married first, but Amma has not given it a single thought,” Bhalla said, and his eyes fires of envy, “She has tried to buy me with elephants and weapons, she even offered me the Spring Palace, while spending all her days searching for a bride for him! But Sivagami couldn’t even do that without asking what he would prefer, that is why she called him back so suddenly, because she had gone through every single portrait they could find and decided none were perfect enough for her Baahu!” He spat his brother’s name, but the hurt in his voice was as clear as the anger and disgust. “I am offered the scraps of whatever is left from his table,”

“That is a wonderful way to view women,” Kalaivani was not surprised, Bijjaladeva had always disrespected Sivagami, of course Bhalla would hold such views.

“What did you say?” The warning tone in his voice made the rajkumari severely regret her words.  
“Women aren’t objects to be had or owned, Bhalla,” Kalaivani said, steeling herself for the worst. She needed to do it, for his sake, for Baahu’s sake and for Deva’s. “You want this yuvrani, do you not? You hardly know her, but you know that she cares for your brother and he for her so you must have her as your own,” Why else would he have been so quick to turn her attentions away from Baahu, to invent such malicious lies? Deva was a beauty to be marvelled at, no doubt Bhalla had envied his brother for holding her attentions the moment he saw her.

“How dare a rajkumari address me in such a way!” He roared, closing the space between them until he towered over her.

“You just want what your brother has, but you don’t understand,” Kalaivani searched deep inside her for the strength she needed to continue. Devasena would not look away or weep, Devasena would proudly speak her mind. “Your mother can love two sons, and you can have a life without a throne,”

* * *

Kumara Varma had chosen not to be present when his sister and brother-in-law approached the Rajamatha of Mahishmati with Shivdu - ‘Baahubali!’ he quickly reminded himself - and Devasena. He said it was because he wanted to explore Mahishmati’s palace gardens, but truthfully he was far too intimidated by Sivagami Devi’s mere presence to go. He was surprised Sumitra had accepted that as an excuse, to be honest, Mahishmati’s terraces could in no way compare to the lush foliage of Kuntala’s mountain slopes and fields.

It took him almost an hour to realise he’d wandered too far from familiar places to the point of getting lost, helpless in the maze of stone and slightly shrivelled greenery. After deciding that a commanding officer would think clearly and calmly, ordering his troops to higher ground to survey the terrain before deciding on an exit strategy, Kumara Varma resolved to climb the higher terraces in hopes it would reveal a way back to the great hall, from there he could make his way back. It didn’t, from his perch all he could see was a rather scenic landscape of desert. Kumara Varma was enjoying the sun and the view when he heard something. Something very strange.

The roar of a deep, thundering voice caused the leaves in the trees to shake and birds to take flight, and Kumara Varma’s cowardly heart stopped in fright. It was a bellow that came from someone the size of a bull, he was sure of it, if they were human at all, and he decided very quickly that caution would be required while he fled. Then, from the same direction somewhere slightly above, Kumara Varma heard the voice of a woman - a high pitched and delicate cry in comparison. Surely she was not facing down such a ferocious beast? He was torn. He knew the proper course of action, but then again he knew how combat went as well, that had never stopped him from leaping onto the roof of a shrine to hide from pindaris.

The woman probably didn’t need his assistance, he convinced himself. Devasena had never needed his help, even when she was a young girl she’d always been able to handle herself whether it was against older children or in battle. Surely whoever it was didn’t need his intervention either, and if she did someone like Baahubali would come save her. Yes, someone like him. Kumara Varma had very quickly come to admire this new persona of Shivdu, who proved as courageous as the stories said. He’d acted a foolish villager just for a chance at the yuvrani’s love, defying all tradition and custom, and after his identity was revealed had come to Jaya Varma and Sumitra, pledging to love her until the end of his days and asking their forgiveness. What had truly proved his worth, however, was that he had faced Devasena’s anger head on, such bravery was truly unparalleled.

Surely Kumara Varma should act with such honour and righteousness as well? He doubted himself capable of it, Baahubali was greater than them all, but for the first time the young man felt a swelling in his chest and a strength in his hands - courage. Out of habit, he paused, waiting in hopes that perhaps someone else would take up the mantel and intervene on the woman’s behalf, before realising there was nothing to be done for it. With a great sigh he started on the stairs to the higher terrace, before adjusting his pace after realising how many steps there were and how steep they were (yes it was a matter of urgency but he had to consider his health, after all).

When Kumara Varma reached the top of the steps he stopped in the middle of a garden, realising miserably that the confrontation was taking place past another, much smaller flight of stairs. Then, suddenly, he felt short of breath - not for the many steps but for the sight he was now held beholden to, for at the top of the stairs was a princess, she surely was a princess bedecked in all her golden finery, and she had captured the air in his lungs. He was enthralled, mouth agape as she descended the steps. Everything about her was heaven itself, the slight sway of her jhumkas drew attention to the swan-like curve of her neck, so elegant and beautiful, and the delicate chime of her anklets revealed her graceful gait - even as she hurried down the steps and turned towards him. As she drew closer, he became captivated by the way the green and purple silks of her sari caressed her brown skin. Her eyes met his and Kumara Varma could have died on the spot and gone willingly, his only prayer that they would be reunited in some other life. Gone were the days of pining over Devasena.

Right behind the rajkumari was a man Kumara Varma only dimly recognised, though his name mattered not, his barrel chest, broad shoulders and thick arms told him what he needed to know; he should run. Very fast and very, very far away. But something held him to the spot, whether it was his new found love or courage he would never know.

“Sir, leave this woman alone!” Kumara Varma called out before he could stop himself. Bravery was a very inconvenient thing at times.

The man glared at the intruder, eyes narrowed. The seasoned warrior was in truth assessing this new opponent, but to Kumara Varma it seemed his foolish interruption had indeed worked.

“For the sake of both your honour and hers, leave her alone,” The word ‘honour’ drew the man’s attention. What exactly did the confrontation look like to outsider eyes? He became very conscious that his hand was gripping the princess’s arm aggressively, and though he had meant to shake her he realised what it’s implication was.

“I did nothing improper,” He barked out, releasing the rajkumari and turning on Kumara Varma. “It is a conversation between friends and nothing that concerns you,”

“Rajkumari, are you well?” Kumara Varma asked. The way she clutched at the spot where the man had grabbed her caused his heart to ache.

“The prince was just leaving,” She answered quietly. Torn between yelling in rage and launching an assault on the intruding Kuntalan, the man stood, as though, unable to move, before shooting the pair a murderous glare and storming off, ground shaking beneath his feet.

“Thank you, for your kindness,” The rajkumari said once he had left their sight.

“Rajkumari, may I make a request of you?” Kumara Varma asked.

“Of course, I would repay you in anyway I can,”

“Could you help me find the way out?” He said. “I’m very lost,”

* * *

 

By the time Kalaivani and Kumara Varma had found there way down to the great hall, the negotiations had finished and the terms of the marriage settled. Kuntala would retain it’s independence under Devasena’s rule as Maharani of both lands, and it was agreed that her descendants would then decide what would be in the interests of the kingdom in terms of unification in the future. If she were to pass without producing any offspring, Mahishmati would relinquish all claims to the throne. Devasena particularly enjoyed the entire hour the ministers spent deciding that, debating the process of events following her hypothetical demise and whether or not children from Amarendra’s theoretical second marriage would be entitled to her kingdom. But the odious afternoon for all was soon concluded.

Less than a week ago Devasena would never have dreamed she would be where she was, standing at the steps of Mahishmati’s grand palace, watching as servants distributed gifts and sweets among the crowds that had gathered to here the announcement. Foregoing all decorum, her future husband had snatched her hand as they stood side beside, the people of their kingdom cheering for their new queen. Amarendra smiled at her, shining like a second sun, and Devasena could not help but return it as children rained down on them a rainbow of flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is mostly me trying to explain my idea of why Bhalla did what he did, demanding Devasena. In canon-verse, he wanted her because Baahu did, he wanted to take something away from his brother because he’s been jealous of him is whole life - Baahu by that stage has gotten everything Bhalla’s ever wanted, their mother’s supposed preference and the throne. In this au-verse, similarly, he only wanted her because Baahu would get her. It’s all about jealousy and possession. Anyway, that was my interpretation of the films when it comes to Bhalla. Essentially, his relationship with Sivagami defined his later evils (through no fault of her own, it was largely Bijjaladeva’s influence I believe). 
> 
> In conclusion, Bhalla doesn't look that great in this chapter, but there will be a happy ending for everyone in the end, he just needs to work through some things before he can start out on the right path :)


	9. Kanna Nee Thoongada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A royal wedding in Mahishmati heralds the start of new beginnings for all.

  
“Why did you leave so suddenly?” She asked, “I thought the foolishness of my lullaby scared you off,”

The pair were sitting in his apartments, looking out beyond the balcony at the view of the city below and the desert that reached out to brush the horizon of the light blue sky. Devasena was now accustomed to the feel of his warm embrace, and she languished in it, cherishing the steady beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest, but she knew she’d never tire of it.

“I was enchanted by your song, Deva,” Amarendra murmured into her hair, as enthralled by her then as he was now. “I had not dared to think you returned my love, and to hear you sing of me in the same sentence as the divine…” His breath had caught as her words drifted through the air to him, a look of sheer joy on his face as he lamented the hurt she had caused him, her beloved. “Your love is as sacred to me as that song, yuvrani,”

Smiling, Devasena turned to face him, their faces expressing what words could not.

“I knew you were so much more than who you said the moment you touched me, do you remember? On the boar hunt I tripped and you caught me, and I knew,” She knew she was his, peasant boy or king of Mahishmati she was his forever more. “My foolishness injured you and I could not tell if I was more sorry for it or irate that you had let the bull charge you in the first place,”

“I did not want to risk my disguise,” Amarendra chuckled, “I could not have borne it if you had sent me away,”

“I would never have done so,” She insisted, “But you left all the same,” Her thoughts had returned to the subject naturally, but now the question would not be avoided. The space between them, though there wasn’t much to speak of, grew sombre.

“My mother sent a message to me, and I could not refuse,” He said, “At the time, my duty as a son outweighed my duty to you, but now you will be my wife, and I am bound to you,” His pledge to her had already been made in his heart, but that day in the mango groves reaffirmed it. “I plan to uphold my duty to you devoutly,” Amarendra promised.

“Duty?” Devasena questioned, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “You make it sound like an onerous obligation,” Not all marriages resulted in domestic bliss. Many women privately discussed their spouses and their failings as husbands, while men often complained of their wives publicly. Either way, the marriages the yuvrani had seen endure only on duty were tragedies to behold. She had always looked for a loving union, based on mutual respect and devotionn, like that her brother and sister-in-law enjoyed. Duty was a word she associated with tedious matters she was forced to oversee as crown princess, like entertaining foreign envoys and responding to presumptuous marriage proposals.

Sensing her discomfort, her husband-to-be tightened his hold of her, leaning in until their faces were almost touching, and stared deep into her eyes. She could not miss the love that shone within his own.   
“I look forward to these duties,” Amarandra said, “To love and respect you, honour and protect you,” He took her face in his hands, and tenderly pressed his lips to hers, before chastely pulling away as quickly as he came, “To live as one with you is all I want in this life,”  
“Liar,” Devasena smiled, shaking her head. “You care too much for the rest of the world to be so wholly taken with me,” This Baahubali of hers loved his people, his country, his family and their honour. To follow a righteous path, to uphold his obligations to them, that was what he would devote his life to. “I love you all the more for it,” She told him honestly, gently pushing a loose curl away from his face.

He was handsome, her Amarendra, with glowing skin and eyes as bright as suns. Every time she saw him Devasena saw celestial light cast upon his face, but now in the red array of dusk he proved more glorious than ever before. Or perhaps that particular thought was due to their proximity.

“What are you thinking?” He grinned, lifting his hand to hold hers, Devasena’s fingers still gracing hair. Devasena looked down at her lap, her blue silks pooling about them both, and a blush rose to her cheeks. Her mind had indeed wandered, to how his unruly curls only added more to his rugged appeal.

“I am thinking that the wedding can not come soon enough,” She said truthfully.

* * *

Tradition dictated a bride be married in her own home, and while it was not the Rajamatha’s inclination to break with custom, these were unique circumstances indeed. A wedding procession, Baahu argued, would be an unnecessary cost, considering Devasena was already in Mahishmati (“Surely it is futile for her to leave for Kuntala only to return once more, Amma?”). Additionally, the astrologers had dictated the most auspicious day for the ceremonies to begin was less than a month away, if they were to miss it the couple would wait half a year to wed, and Mahishmati’s Raja had no intention of postponing the ceremonies for any longer than absolutely necessary. A palatial house outside of the palace walls was prepared for Devasena and her brother as guests of Mahishmati for the intermittent period. As soon as the news spread, noble women began to flock to the yuvrani, each pleading for a position within her royal household as rani.

It was thought of as an honour to serve the queen of Mahishmati, and so ladies and princesses across the kingdoms arrived for the wedding, hoping to attend to the new bride until their own marriages were set or they grew homesick. Though Devasena did not often receive guests, preferring solitude and her close companions over constant entertainment, she was welcome of the company. This was especially due to the fact that her best friend, Vaishnavi, would not be remaining with her when she started this new chapter of her life. Though she would be missed, Devasena wished her well in her future. She was to be married to Madhava, a respected warrior, and both women hoped the couple would have many children. Devasena remembered how many times the pair had spoken long into the night, lying awake in bed as they spoke of what their futures might hold. Vaishnavi had mentioned many times of her prayers for a daughter once she wedded, she had long been envious of he focusing who had delivered a beautiful baby girl in the late spring that the proud parents had named Avanthika. Together, princess and handmaiden had even thought of names for the potential girl, settling on the name Vaishali.

Recalling their girlish chatter, Devasena could not help but think of her own future. She was to be a bride, a wife, and in time a mother. She’d never given it much though before, but now a part of her yearned to hold a child in her arms. Perhaps a baby that looked like Amarendra. Yes, she would like that.

Her musings were interrupted by Kalaivani, the chime of anklets and her giggles heralding her arrival. The rajkumari had been in a mood of constant elation the past few days, and it was heartwarming sight.

“Deva, I would like to introduce you to my dearest of friends,” Kalaivani said, and Devasena noticed the woman standing beside her, “She was not here for the coronation, but will attend the wedding with me,”

“Oh?” Devasena knew she could not have attended Amarendra’s coronation, she would have certainly remembered such a face. Sharp cheekbones and jawline shaped her in startling beauty, lips redder than blood and hair darker than night. What struck the yuvrani as odd, however, was that the two friends were so entirely contrasted with each other. Where Kalaivani was short and plump, with a face as sweet as the most beloved dessert and a smile like honey, this woman was tall and rigid, her lithe form made heavy with muscle. Her beauty was very different to Kalaivani’s, but captivating all the same. Devasena saw a fellow warrior in her.

“This is Rajkumari Indira Devi of Vijayapuri, you would have seen many of her sisters before,” Kalaivani said, gesturing to her friend, “Akka, this is Yuvrani Devasena of Kuntala,”

“It is an honour to meet you, Yuvrani,” The woman greeted her politely.

“And you too, Rajkumari,”

“I have heard much of your boldness and honour from Kalai,” Indira said, “I must admit, I would very much like us to be friends, yuvrani. If it pleases you, I would ask that you call me Indu,”

“Then I am Deva to you, also,” Devasena smiled warmly. Friendship was not earned so easily, but the princess was already inclined to like this woman. In time, they would be good friends indeed, she was convinced of it. “Do you intend to stay long in Mahishmati, Indu?”

“I was hoping to join your household and gain some experience of court with you, after your marriage,”

“That is good to hear,”

“Deva, I have something to speak to you about,” Kalaivani said suddenly, only just remembering the purpose of her visit. “You have spoken so warmly of Kuntala and it’s people in the past, I can not help but believe I would find such a place a good home,”

“A home?”

“In the last few days I have come to know your brother-in-law, Kumara Varma, quite well, and it is my hope that I may pursue a marriage with him with your blessing,” Devasena could do nothing but look to her friend, stunned and lost for words, “What? Do you think it an ill match? I understand we met only a few days ago, but I have never felt so much for one person,”

“I believe that you are well-suited to each other,” Devasena finally spoked, finding her words carefully. The more she though of it the more it was true. Kalaivani was sweet and kind, but capable of unexpected strength, she would do very well with Kumara Varma. “I must warn you of one thing, however,” She said, “He is a coward, and a hopeless one at that,” Kalaivani could not suppress her laughter, while Indira looked on as though she were mad.   
“Oh no, I do not think so,” The rajkumari assured her friend, “He has proven himself both galant and courageous,”

“Well then, of course, if that is no issue,” Devasena smiled.

“Can you help me, then?” Kalaivani asked, “I fear my father will not agree to this union, as he is no prince or king and has no title,”

“But have you not heard? He is a famed warrior of endless courage!”

“Please do not tease,” The look she gave the yuvrani was pitiful, but out of respect for her friend Deva relented with a small smile, “I would ask that you and Baahu offer to arrange the marriage on my father’s behalf, with your endorsement I am sure he will accept it,”

“Very well, I wish you all the happiness in the world,” The yuvrani replied, “But I have one condition,”

“Name it,”

“When you go to Kuntala you have to get rid of his ridiculous portraits, he has dozens of them - ludicrous poses in all of them with one weapon or another-” Devasena could not continue, her unrestrained laughter bouncing off the stone walls of her private chambers. Kalaivani joined her, and Indira too, although she was a little confused, and their shared amusement was affectionate if not entirely kind.

Later that day, Devasena discussed the news with Amarendra, who was amenable to the idea.

“Kuntala has given me their most prized jewel, of course they shall have Kalai in return,” He said, meaning to compliment her. Still, Devasena felt it necessary to challenge him, if only to tease.

“I am much more than some pretty stone to be paraded about,” She told him, with a feigned severity he now knew too well.

“Yuvrani, you are the calm and the storm, the sun and the mood, light and dark, all in one,” Amarendra said, playing along with her game. Taking hold of her hands and laying kisses to them, Devasena knew if she were truly mad she would never have remained so with his excessive fondness. “Life and death are in your eyes, and you comfort or kill with a single caress,” He continued, mischief on his lips as he looked up to meet her gaze. “A beautiful force you are, terrible to behold and capable of felling the most fearsome demons,” Now Devasena thought it was too much, and was about to ask him to stop, but the look he gave her was so full of sincerity her order stopped in her throat, “I look to you and I see righteousness and honour, yuvrani, I see my life’s purpose,”

“I think…”  
“What do you think, yuvrani?” He rose up and drew closer, his mouth inches away from her hear.

“I think that had I lived a thousand years without your love they would have all been for nothing,” Devasena murmured. “If I spend all my lifetimes at your side it would still not be enough, my love for you is endless and eternal. It will wether the greatest storm and still shine bright for you,” Surely a husband-to-be should not make his bride cry so many times before the wedding, she thought, even if it was all for happiness.

* * *

As the first day of the ceremonies dawned bright, Amarendra found his brother waiting for him outside his chambers. Bhallala Deva stood in the open air of his private garden, his expression an impregnable mask.

“Brother!” Amarendra called, grinning as he waved at him, “Have you come to congratulate me on this happy day?” His confident strides were broken by his brother’s response.

“I hated you for so long,” Bhallala Deva said in a voice broken by emotion. “So long,” He repeated, and Amarendra stared, unsure how to respond. The hurt was overwhelming, and the confusion.

“Bhalla-” He began, extending his hand to clasp his brother’s shoulder, but the elder cut him off.

“Can you not understand my pain?” He savagely demanded, mouth curling in a snarl, “How can you not know of the difficulties I have faced?” Baahubali’s blank stare only enraged him more, “Of course you don’t, you have always been this way!” He cursed, “So bright, so trusting, so oblivious to ill will and disloyalty!”

“Brother, what is the meaning of this?”

“This is your greatest triumph, Baahu,” Bhalla continued, and even at arms length his brother could feel his unsteady breathing as his body shook with anger, “You are king and now you are to be married and so you have Amma’s love, the people’s love, power and prosperity, it is all yours!”

“Bhalla, I-”

“And what am I left with? Nothing!” His brother raged, “I am your commander, just as you said I would be,” Amarendra did not know what he was talking about, but there was no arguing with him, “Do you not know of the humiliation I suffer?”

It had been a joke in passing, nothing more. After their tests had been successfully completed, Amarendra had clapped his brother on the shoulder and turned to him with a grin.

“When I am king, you will be the commander of my armies,” He’d said, and the never thought about the comment again, the teasing already forgotten for him.

For Bhallala Deva, the joke haunted him. It festered in his mind as he watched the sun set, the moon ascend and descend the heavens, and the sun rise once more, the pain in his heart turning into a horrid, hateful scar across his being.

“You can not accept such an insult,” His father had insisted, and Bhalla had agreed. It was humiliating, to be so condescended by someone he had counted a brother - and a younger brother at that. Baahubali’s presumptuous words, the assumption that he was the superior, it had stung so painfully because deep inside Bhalla had always known it. As a child he could never compete with his younger cousin, so blessed by the gods and the Rajamatha, their mother the most exalted being they knew of. He tried his best, and it was all for nothing - Baahubali was stronger, faster, smarter and most of all the most obedient, the most loyal. He adored Sivagami and she adored him.

There had always been two symbols of Mahishmati, the lion and the horse, representing the king and his army. When it came time to chose what sigils would mark their armour, Bhalla had chosen the lion. He had aspired to be the lion, the predator, the king, fearless and ruthless. He became what he was told a leader must be, determined and strong, fearsome in battle and focus on the end result, not the means that brought him there. That was what had cost him the throne in the end, he was willing to make sacrifices to defeat an enemy, but that was what he told made great warriors, great leaders, great kings. He was the lion of Mahishmati, but that was worthless in the end.

Perhaps that was what had led him to let the rope fall, to watch as it slithered further and further away, his brother’s life dangling beyond the cliff edge.

“Bhalla, you are a leader,” Amarendra said quietly, “But you are best suited to lead Mahishmati’s armies, not govern it’s people,” Bhalla gave a hollow laugh, returning his glare to his brother, “You have always preferred war, and you are the mightier warrior of us two,” They were both gifted in warfare, but Bhalla had relished combat while Baahu endured it, he did not live for the smell of blood as much as his brother. “Amma has always admired you for your strength,”

“You are the one she named Baahubali, brother,”

“You inherited her iron-clad character,” Amarendra clarified, sighing, “If there are any ill airs between us, let them disperse, please. I have only love for you, my brother,”

Bhallala Deva began to utter a rebuke, before closing his mouth. After a moment he cursed beneath his breath, and coldly answered.

“I wish you well on this happy day, Maharaja,”

It was a start, if nothing else.

* * *

Mahishmati’s famed Maharaja Amarendra Baahubali wed the Yuvrani Devasena of Kuntala in days of splendid ceremonies that did honour themselves, their families and their people. Both individuals had tears in their eyes as they embarked on the first of their many lives together, beneath a shower of flowers and well wishes. Those that witnessed it swore they saw the Rajamatha weep as the ceremonies concluded, but none believed them.

That was how the pair found themselves alone, in the king’s bedchamber

Devasena had felt more like a sacrificial offering than a new bride when she was guided into the chamber surrounded by maids and friends, all smugly giggling at what was sure to come. They’d sat her on the bed and taken turns wishing her well, though the yuvrani - now Maharani - only drew comfort from the hug her sister-in-law offered, squeezing reassuringly as she petted her hair. Sitting alone, the smell of incense and flowers clouding her senses, Devasena felt utterly overwhelmed and exhausted, but those feelings fled at her beloved’s entrance.

With new found confidence, her agitation reduced to nothing, Devasena smiled at him.

“You will need to help me out of all this,” She said, gesturing vaguely to her person, “I have never worn armour as heavy as this jewellery,”

“But you look so gorgeous, how would I dare to tarnish such an artwork?” Amarendra teased, sitting down beside her on the bed.

“Do you want a wife that can walk?” She had jingled with every step she took throughout the entire day, climbing the steps to her new home the most difficult of all. Devasena had strengthened her body in martial training, as well as extensive training in traditional dance that was to be credited for a lot of conditioning, but the weight of her finery had threatened to have her falling down the stairs and into the crowd.

“Not if you are going to walk away from me,” He answered with a grin.

With all jewellery, and a healthy amount of clothing, removed, the two lay side by side on the bed, each waiting for the other to make their move.

“Of all my duties to you as husband, this is the one I most looked forward to,” He joked, and Devasena hit him soundly on the shoulder even as she smiled. “You wound me, wife!” He cried out, clutching at his shoulder in exaggerated hurt. “I have not fully healed from the bull and you seek to cripple me,” Devasena only rolled her eyes, and realising his playfulness was getting him nowhere Amarendra sat up, shaking his head disapprovingly. “What a curse it is, to have such a cruel wife,” He lamented.

“Have we tired of each other so easily, my love?” Devasena laughed, drawing closer to him. With her hand splayed across his chest, she laid her head on his shoulder lovingly.

“Ah!” Amarendra cried out in pain, determined to maintain his act, “Maharani my shoulder pains me, you will have to sing me a song,”

“I don’t know any songs that soothe wounds, husband,” At her words, Amarendra could not help but smile.

“Well then, wife, you will have to sing a lullaby, dreams will help me forget my wounds,” He said, “I even know of one you know the words to,”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Devasena smiled mischievously, “I fear I may have forgotten it,”

“Such a shame! I will have to sing the first lyrics to help your memory,” He offered, clearing his throat.

Devasena had never heard her newlywed husband yell, and had no idea how loud he could be until he opened his mouth and thundered the first syllable of her lullaby, startling her and likely half the palace in the process. Immediately she leapt on him, covering his mouth with her hand as she hovered above him.

“Why should I sing a lullaby when I want you wide awake beside me?” Devasena asked, and beneath her Amarendra stilled his playful struggles. “What wife would want a sleeping husband on such a night?”

Later, with his love asleep in his arms, Amarendra dreamed of resting in the low branch of a tree beneath a full moon as the sounds of a pooja enveloped him, the sounds of a princess singing of her love for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you so much everyone who's supported this fic with such kind words of encouragement, it has truly made this experience so rewarding. I have grown to love this fandom even more, you have all been so kind and welcoming. I can not thank you enough! :)


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